


smile and say "it will be okay"

by mifan



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 乐华七子NEXT | NEX7, 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Canon Compliant, Fantasy, Fighting, Fluff, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Magic, Unrequited Love, a side of light angst, and i have no idea if it's a good idea, and um you can see the xinchun/dinghao if you squint, but here we go, mm zhengkun rivalry, no beta we die like men, oh and i love friendship, one more thing i'm so sorry ziyi, so i have no idea why i wrote this, so lots of friendship, the devil's in the details with this one, zhangjun pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 76,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mifan/pseuds/mifan
Summary: In a world very much like our own, one wildly anticipated contest becomes the arena where one hundred youths fight for a chance to change their world.For Team 9, their journey from Dachang to the Frontier is much more than any of them ever expected. But if they have each other, it will be okay.
Relationships: Cai Xukun/Zhu Zhengting | Jung Jung, Ding Zeren/Zhou Yanchen, Fan Chengcheng & Huang Minghao | Justin, Lin Yanjun/You Zhangjing
Comments: 95
Kudos: 113





	1. zero (i)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ramenree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramenree/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world very much like our own, one wildly anticipated contest becomes the arena where one hundred youths fight for a chance to change their world.
> 
> You Zhangjing travels to faraway Shanghai to escape a jaded social hierarchy. Wang Linkai searches for his place in a world that has never seen him. Wang Ziyi is tired of the way people around him act. 
> 
> For some people, this is their dream. 
> 
> Zhu Zhengting is desperate to prove himself and defy expectations. Lin Yanjun puts one foot in front of the other with his eyes closed. Huang Minghao chases his dreams like a moth drawn to a flame. 
> 
> For others, this is their last chance. 
> 
> Fan Chengcheng runs from a poisonous inheritance he never chose. Chen Linong rolls the dice for one last chance at a better life. Cai Xukun leaves behind everything in exchange for the only thing in the world that might still be able to save him. 
> 
> For Team 9, their journey from Dachang to the Frontier is much more than any of them ever expected. But if they have each other, it will be okay.

Unbidden, a curl of flame snakes around his wrist as he steps out into the cold. Cai Xukun closes his fist tightly, and the fire retreats before anyone else can see. 

The driver helps him unload his luggage from the trunk of the car. Xukun sends the man off with a quiet thanks and drags his bags into the nearest building—the dormitories. It is already bustling with activity inside, and heads turn his direction as he enters. 

_It’s Cai Xukun_ . He recognizes the whispers by the shapes of their mouths if not the sound. _The dragonling_. 

He ignores the talk and smiles politely at the few that make eye contact with him. Stomping the snow off his boots at the entrance, he approaches the desk set up in the middle of the foyer, where two young women in masks covering half their faces sit with pens and clipboards. 

“Name?” one asks him. 

“Cai Xukun,” he replies. “Dragonling. Not affiliated with any company.” 

They find him on their papers and check him off. The woman on the right fishes through a large, compartmentalized box for a key attached to a square of plastic bearing a number _1_. It’s handed to Xukun with instructions to find his room, deposit his things, and head to the Amphitheatre thereafter. 

Cai Xukun is halfway to the stairs when he hears a voice call his name. He stops, turns, and sees a boy, looking no older than sixteen or seventeen, approach him with his own bags.

“I think we’re in the same room,” he says cheerfully. The boy is round-faced and dimply, and upon closer inspection Xukun thinks that perhaps he’s older than he appears. “I saw the number on your key—I got room one, too, but I didn’t want to go up alone.” 

“And you are?” Xukun asks. A part of him that he has long since shunted to the side still cares that he sounded too blunt. 

The boy—Xukun thinks now that he may be an imp or elf—breaks into a grin and extends a hand. “Oh, I really forgot to introduce myself, didn’t I? I’m Qian Zhenghao. I’m from Younger Culture Research.” 

“Cai Xukun.” He returns the gesture. “It’s nice to meet you.” A pause. “Let’s go upstairs.” 

Qian Zhenghao follows him up the stairs to the third floor, where all the rooms are located, huffing under the weight of his luggage and heavy winter coat. Xukun considers helping until he feels heat rising beneath his palms and quelling that becomes his only concern. 

* * *

It’s been nearly two years since iQiyi first announced plans for _NINE,_ or the _Neo-Initiative Expedition_ , and only a little less time since Lin Chaoze first began working their asses into the ground in preparation. You Zhangjing stands now in the room he’d spent the last year in, giving the place one last sweep before they go. 

It feels a little silly to him to be so sentimental—they have Lin Yanjun for that, after all—but he supposes he could allow himself a little silliness when he is approaching such a crossroads. 

The night before, he’d called his sister back in Malaysia, and their conversation is a reminder that his life in Shanghai has been far too comfortable. Here, where dozens of species lived together in a bustling metropolis, no one seems to care about any unsavoury lineages. Back home is a different story. 

“We’re all waiting for you.” A familiar voice gently pulls him out of his thoughts. “Does saying goodbye to this place really take half an hour?” 

Lin Yanjun stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, cheeks dimpled in a knowing smile. You Zhangjing returns it. 

“It’s a big building,” he retorts, “and don’t pretend that you’re not the most emotional of us all when it comes to these things.” 

Lin Yanjun doesn’t cry easily—but Zhangjing can tell when he’s feeling. 

“I’m not the one holding us up, though,” says Yanjun. He flicks off the lights behind them as Zhangjing joins him at the door. “What do you say, You Zhangjing? Are you ready?” 

Zhangjing doesn’t feel ready, but he knows that he is. Even if he isn’t, he has to be, and he promises himself that he won’t disappoint. 

“It’s too late to say no,” he replies. They begin heading down the hall. “What about you, Lin Yanjun? Are _you_ ready?” 

His best friend turns to meet his eyes. Yanjun’s gaze is even more intense than it usually is; to Zhangjing, that is both reassuring and worrying. 

“Yes,” says Yanjun. “I’m ready.” 

At the front steps of the building, the remainder of their little team, Trainee18, waits for them. They’re impatient. Lin Chaoze, in shotgun, is their leader, and the most impatient of them all. They say that imps live their lives fast-paced, and Lin Chaoze is as quick as they come. It is for good reason that he is nicknamed “the Whirlwind.”

“The Frontier will have been explored by the time you guys were done,” he complains. “And Gao Maotong will have grown up.” 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Yanjun returns easily. “How could Maotong ever grow up?”

“I heard that!” A voice comes from the back of the van, where their two youngest members had taken up occupation. Gao Maotong sticks his head and shoulders out the passenger window, all the lanky angles of a dryad. He is one of two dryads on the team—the other is Lu Dinghao, who is presently harassing Li Ruotian, a sprite, over something most likely trivial. The scene is so familiar and so comforting that Zhangjing needs to quash the hot tears that threaten to well up in his eyes when he thinks that this may be the last time he sees Trainee18 like this. 

“Are you ready to leave this?” He nudges Yanjun with his elbow. “I don’t know if I am.” 

He doesn’t know if any of them are, really—it’s hard to imagine eighteen-year-old Gao Maotong facing the unknown dangers of the Frontier or soft, caring Bei Honglin killing monsters without blinking an eye, but they’ve done it hundreds of times in practice. What would be different? 

Yanjun is silent for a moment, and for some reason Zhangjing’s afraid that he would say yes. Instead, he is met with a soft sigh and, “We have to be.” 

He gets into the car and Zhangjing follows suit. 

* * *

Fan Chengcheng hardly has any time to put his things down on the floor of his new room when they are whisked off to another place called the Amphitheatre. When they arrive, he isn’t sure if the pounding in his chest is from the running or the nerves—his best guess is the latter. It wasn’t much running, if he compares it to training.

He hears the leader of his team, Zhu Zhengting, bark out orders at the rest of them as they settle themselves in the waiting room. It is a simply furnished place, sleek and practical like the rest of the campus, Dachang, that they now call home, school, arena. 

Chengcheng follows Justin’s example and ignores whatever is coming out of Zhengting’s mouth and crosses to the mirrors that line one of the walls. At first glance all he sees is an agitated youth. A little longer and that agitated youth is him, with shifty eyes and sweaty palms, all nerves nerves nerves that he can’t control.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” Justin sidles up to him, draping one arm on his shoulder. Chengcheng would never admit it aloud but he wishes he could be like Justin, wishes he could be so talented, so confident, so carefree. “This isn’t the end of the world, you know.” 

Chengcheng can only nod and Justin moves away after a moment, but not without shooting him one last concerned look. 

Chengcheng keeps worrying. 

The rest of his team are practicing their parts, and that’s what he should be doing, too, but he can’t think of anything aside from how thoroughly inadequate he will be come time for their audition. He will let down Zhengting, who has worked so hard to make sure everything is perfect. He will let down Justin, who has supported him tirelessly through the months they prepared for _NINE_. He will let down Wenjun and Quanzhe and Xinchun, who are as desperate for this chance as he is. He will let down Zeren, who only ever wanted the best for their group. 

What is he doing here, anyway?

He looks at his group in the mirror. Zhu Zhengting is stretching, warming up long, graceful limbs. Bi Wenjun dozes off a little; they all know that, like the rest of them, he hardly slept the night before. Ding Zeren has his crow familiar on his shoulder and is talking to it, too quiet to hear.

Justin is sprawled out on the couch, drinking water. Chengcheng makes eye contact with him, and he gives him a wide grin and a thumbs up. Chengcheng's lips twitch up in a poor attempt at a return. 

After some time, there's a knock on the door. A woman's voice is telling them to follow her. Chengcheng moves mechanically with the rest of his group, sees Zhengting fix Quanzhe's collar, Zeren let his familiar go, and Xinchun wring his hands, a nervous tic. Justin is at his side again. 

"You don't look so hot," Justin comments. "Chill out."

Chengcheng laughs humorlessly. "You say that as if it's easy." 

Justin shrugs. "Things are as easy as you make them for yourself."

_Not when others are doing everything they can to make it difficult_ , Chengcheng thinks. 

Justin seems to read his mind, as he has been prone to doing lately. “It doesn’t matter what people say about you, Chengcheng. What can I tell you to convince you?” 

“Tell me— _promise me_ —that they won’t fucking harass my family about me and maybe it’ll help,” he snaps, and immediately regrets it. Justin doesn’t deserve his anger—Justin deserves everything good this world has to offer but Chengcheng has nothing to give him. He shakes off the hand—Justin’s—on his shoulder and walks up to where Wenjun is too busy toying with his yoyo (apparently a good luck charm) anxiously to talk to him. 

The entire group falls into silence then, following their guide through the maze that is Dachang. All the plain, minimalistic halls look the same to Chengcheng, and he vaguely wonders if he would be able to find his way out of this place if left to his own devices. 

At some point in time they are ushered into a small, bright room where they stick little sheets of paper with letters on themselves and Chengcheng is still too wrapped up in his anxieties to care. He follows the rest of his team and slaps a B on the nametag they give him, when in reality he feels maybe just confident enough for a D, if that’s what the letters mean.

“Fan Chengcheng, are you listening?” Zhengting asks him. Chengcheng nods twice for yes, although he missed a good chunk of what their leader said about their group introduction. “At least look the part.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Can you go over how we introduce ourselves again?” 

Zhengting sighs, but doesn’t sound impatient when he explains again. “We’ll just all bow on my count and straighten on my count, too. Then we introduce ourselves one at a time. Keep the facts basic. Don’t want our competition knowing too much about us right off the bat.” 

“Got it.” Chengcheng tries for his signature bounce when he says that, but he can tell by the reactions of his teammates that it falls flat. He adds a “we’ve got this” to repair the atmosphere, which only seems to get tenser. _Damn it_.

“Chengcheng, are you okay?” Zeren asks him. The other members crowd in with their own concerns, and Justin’s worry stands out the most of all. More guilt claws at Chengcheng’s heart when he remembers the way he talked to him and he doesn’t know what to say. 

It turns out he doesn’t need to. At Zhengting’s signal, they all close the distance between them and all of a sudden Chengcheng feels arms around him and someone—he thinks it’s Quanzhe—leaning into the crook between his neck and shoulder and someone else’s skinny limbs—Xinchun’s, probably—squeezing tight enough to cut off his circulation. 

“Hey, guys,” he chokes out. His vision swims with something warm that isn’t tears, he swears. “I’m okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter because this is gonna be a (kind of) long ride! the devil is in the details with this one so i hope things work out. see you guys soon <3


	2. zero (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zero—mc jin  
> this is where we start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i promise that you get actual insight into cxk at some point he is NOT just the it guy

It’s much colder in Langfang than in Taiwan, but Chen Linong doesn’t mind the change in scenery. A little bit of snow and some poorly insulated dormitories are the least of his worries. 

When he makes it to the Amphitheatre, he can hear the commotion of what must be the other contestants, already arrived. His hand goes to the sunflower seeds in his pocket instinctively, as if it would quell the anxiousness. Taking a deep breath, he lets his feet carry him to his destination. 

The lights are blinding for a moment. 

When Linong can see clearly again, he finds himself in what is, indeed, an amphitheatre, if a little unorthodox in shape. One hundred chairs, numbered accordingly, are arranged on tiers that form a triangular shape. He is standing in the open area that serves as the stage, and all the eyes in the room are on him 

He clears his throat. “Hi everyone!” He gives the room a bow, a smile, and a small wave. “I'm Chen Linong, and I'm from A Legend Star.”

The contestants in the chamber—Linong guesses there are thirty or forty in the room by this time—clap perfunctorily, and he can hear a few quiet _Hi, Linong_ s among the applause. 

Then, a louder _Hi, Linong!_ punctuates the din. He looks around curiously for a familiar face and finds him sitting at the bottom of the pyramid, in the row closest to the stage. “Kaihao!”

Xu Kaihao gives him a blinding smile, all nearly-closed eyes and white teeth. Linong returns it with equal enthusiasm and trots up to where his friend is sitting. “You didn't tell me you were coming too!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Kaihao replies smugly. “I haven't seen you in a while.”

“There's a lot to catch up on,” Linong agrees. He scans the room again. “Can we just sit anywhere?”

Kaihao nods and pats the seat to his left. “Where we sit has no bearing on what we get as our ranking later. Besides, the view is good here.” 

Linong sits. “How have things been?”

“Just fine,” Kaihao says. “What about you? Are things better at home now?”

He can't help it when his smile falters a little. “Same old.”

Ever since his father died a little over two years ago, their entire town has begun to treat him and his mother quite differently, and not in a pleasant way; perhaps it was living in a jaded, human-dominated rural area that was the cause, coupled with the departure of his father’s authority and protection. Regardless of the reason, though, Linong had to find a way to change things. 

Kaihao sighs and puts an arm around his shoulder. “Sorry to hear that,” he says. “But you might be able to do it this time. They’ll regret treating Chen Linong so poorly once you become a part of Team Nine.” 

Linong's smile returns. “You're right. Things'll change after this.”

Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of more contestants. They greet each group or individual as they finish their introductions and soon Linong's palms sting from all the clapping. Several trainees catch his eye, though, including the four from Gramarie—they have a vampire with them, which alone is usually something to talk about, but there's something else, a certain energy, about their group that makes him note that they are a team to watch.

The team sent by the Banana Institution (a powerful organization, if a little oddly named) also has his attention—there are nine of them in total, the largest group so far, but one could tell that they are all intimately familiar with each other, even as they split up and scatter themselves among the seats on the pyramid. The nine of them could make a perfect team already. It's a little intimidating. 

“That guy's from Taiwan, like us.” Kaihao points out one of the contestants from Banana, an attractive young man with large, dark eyes. When he smiles at another trainee, his dimples are so deep that it freaks Linong out a little, although he also can't help but wonder how someone could look so good and make it seem easy. “The name's Lin Yanjun. He's in our dorm, too. I saw him earlier when I was dropping off my stuff.”

“We're in the same dorm?” Linong asks, surprised. Then he remembers the little sign just outside the door, which he didn't read, too preoccupied with getting his sunflower into the room, and laughs sheepishly. “Figures. Guess the last guy might be Taiwanese, too.”

“Haven't met him yet.” Kaihao shrugs. “Speaking of Taiwan, is your mom doing better?”

Linong nods, although the thought fills him with worry. “She isn't sick anymore, if that's what you mean. And she’s getting ready to move away from the town to Kaohsiung, so hopefully my asshole of an uncle won’t be something to worry about soon.” 

He's surprised by how bitter he sounds. It must be being away from home doing that to him. 

Kaihao gives a low hum of understanding and pats his back. “Like I said, it'll get better.”

The next group of trainees to make their entrance have the entire room focused on them like hawks. Linong knows why. The logo that flashes above their heads on the screen is that of Yuehua Research, one of the wealthiest and most influential organizations in the Frontier exploration field, with teams based both in China and overseas; they are the biggest players in the contest. There are seven young men representing them, and they bow in perfect sync.

Linong claps along with the others. He can just feel the energy surrounding them; they must be largely supernatural species and witches. In the dimmer recesses of the chamber, he can make out the shape of a bird that followed them into the room—they have a shapeshifter, then.

They all follow their leader and sit in the same row as Linong and Kaihao, seven all together. Up close, it's evident that they're just as nervous as anyone else in the room; one boy who looks no older than seventeen or eighteen rubs his palms on his pants repeatedly. Another, with silver-blond hair, wrings his hands and chews his lower lip. Their leader is a tall, slender young man with delicate features, and is presently expounding encouraging words in a hushed tone. 

The rest of the trainees coming in don't draw much attention until one. When he comes in, the entire Amphitheatre seems to suck in a breath, the loud chatter dying down to muttering. Linong himself pauses mid-sentence. 

It's Cai Xukun. 

Everyone in the room knows his name, knows who he is, knows that the most formidable contestant has arrived. He is a rising star in the races for Frontier exploration, making his first appearance on the scene four years ago, at only fifteen. Linong scrutinizes the dragonling walking in amid the quiet gossip. He looks a little smaller and shyer in person than on camera, hands folded in front of him and a cursory smile on his face. He introduces himself quickly and candidly and begins looking for a seat, heads turning to follow his movements. 

Most in the lower tiers are taken already, but he seems to have no intent on stopping there anyway. Cai Xukun's walk is confident as he passes Yuehua and Gramarie and Banana and OACA and everyone else, heading straight to the top. 

“Is he going to take the first seat?” Kaihao wonders aloud. “I would, if I were him.”

Linong stays silent and watches. Watches Cai Xukun approach the throne, before taking a sudden left and seating himself in sixth. The entire Amphitheatre seems to let out a breath and resume their previous conversations as if nothing had happened. 

* * *

The lights dim a little when the final trainee takes his spot among the hundred. There are whispers of _the evaluators are coming_ all around him, and Wang Linkai straightens in his seat for the first time since he sat down. 

“Finally,” he says, under his breath, but Zhu Xingjie catches it anyway. 

“They really did make us wait for an hour,” he replies dryly. “But at least now we get to see _the_ Zhang Yixing in person.”

“And Wang Jiaer,” adds Zhou Yanchen from Zhu Xingjie’s other side. “Xiao Gui must be glad it isn’t Wu Yifan this time.” 

Linkai—he goes by Xiao Gui by force of habit, mostly—snorts. “Kris can bring all he’s got.” 

“Shh.” Zhang Yankai nudges him from his right. “Yixing could come in right now and hear you.” 

It's as if Yankai cued the evaluators, because the lights illuminating the passage all trainees entered from suddenly brighten and in the newfound quiet of the Amphitheatre, footsteps echo clearly. Xiao Gui watches the entrance intently, like the cameras in the chamber that swivel on their bases to do the same. 

The tip of a shiny black boot emerges from the passageway and its owner soon follows. Xiao Gui recognizes him immediately—it is Zhang Yixing, the nation’s foremost explorer and the current commander of iQiyi's Frontier Exploration Department, as well as one of the few who have ventured farther into the unknown than anyone alive and returned with findings that still drive the interest in Frontier exploration.

Xiao Gui doesn't consider himself easily impressible, but Zhang Yixing is, without a doubt, impressive. The commander is dressed in a long beige coat that billows behind him as he walks in and, although he isn't a large man, the way he carries himself commands more presence than anyone Xiao Gui has seen before. The look in his eyes is intense and serious, and for a moment Xiao Gui almost buys into the bullshit about how dragonlings are essentially worthy of worship. Zhang Yixing looks like he could murder him in a heartbeat, and he wonders if Cai Xukun would be much different. 

"Hello everyone." Zhang Yixing's voice reverberates through the room. "I am the commander of iQiyi's Frontier Exploration Department, and your main evaluator for the duration of your participation in _NINE_ , Zhang Yixing." 

The contestants seem to be of one mind as they give him a standing ovation. He smiles, and it takes some of the intimidation off his features. He waits for the applause to die down before he continues, "Today, you are here because you want to be the next to explore the Frontier. To do what no one in this world has ever done before." 

Most of the trainees nod earnestly. Xiao Gui can’t pretend not to be excited by the prospect—the Frontier, a vast piece of unexplored land that lies on the southernmost pole of the Earth, full of unknowns and dangers that no one in history has been able to successfully bypass and live to tell the tale. The man standing before them right now is one of nine to come closer to the centre of the Frontier than any before them, yet even then there is still much left untouched. Some legends even say that the heart of the Frontier is where the supernatural originates—fairies and sirens and vampires and long-gone dragons. 

"I'll let my colleagues introduce themselves, now." Zhang Yixing passes his microphone to the handsome man next to him—Xiao Gui recognizes him. It's Wang Jiaer, or Jackson Wang, a member of a well-known Korean research team credited with compiling research on the geological features of the edges of the Frontier.

"Hi everyone." His tone is casual. "I'm Wang Jiaer; you can call me Jackson if that's what you're more used to. I'll be one of your tactics evaluators." 

Tactics, Navigation, and Combat—the three main areas tested for Frontier explorers, to Xiao Gui's knowledge. It seems that _NINE_ is little different from the evaluation programmes that came before it. His best area is tactics, although he's confident he could do well in combat also. Navigation would need some work, but he's fairly certain it won't come to that. If he's sufficiently skilled in one area, it should make up for his lack in another. He glances at Zhu Xingjie all the same, though—Xingjie has it all, and in abundance. If anyone deserves to become a member of Team 9 once the four months are up, it would be him. 

The microphone has passed to the next evaluator. "I'm Jin Au-yeung, your second tactics evaluator." Xiao Gui recognizes him, too—he works for an American research company, which explains his heavy accent. "I'm excited to be working with you all." 

The next evaluators to be introduced are both women, and both in charge of combat, although Xiao Gui knows better than to underestimate them because of that. The first evaluator introduces herself as Cheng Xiao, a member of WJSN (a joint Korean-Chinese research team, of all females). The other is named Zhou Jieqiong, and something is a bit off about her—it takes him a moment to realize that she is not human. _A huli jing—fox spirit._ And an old, powerful one, at that. 

The final mentor is Li Ronghao, a well-known navigational expert. He is a quiet, thoughtful-looking man, and Xiao Gui makes a mental note to be careful around him.

“Whether or not you cam make it to the end of _NINE_ is dependent upon popular vote by the audience." The microphone is back in Zhang Yixing's possession. “The one hundred chairs you see here today will only decrease in number as the show goes on.” 

Everyone is aware of this fact, but there are sharp intakes of breath and nervous murmurs all the same. _NINE_ is different from many of its predecessors in that it also takes into account evaluator decisions, but to get to a point where that could save you, you’d have to make it past the audience first.

"When you came in today, you all gave yourself a rank from A to F, A being the best. This is what you thought you deserved. We're here, now, to re-evaluate you, and this rank will determine how you face the coming challenge." 

Xiao Gui looks at the large blue F plastered onto his red jacket. He thought their group were probably all Cs or Bs at least, but Xingjie insisted on ranking themselves lower to avoid possible embarrassment. _It doesn't have to be F,_ Xiao Gui argued, but Xingjie only laughed. _We can be the F Four,_ he returned, referencing the television drama which Xiao Gui finds far too overrated. 

"It's to our knowledge that you've all prepared a routine, based on a Simulacrum," the commander is saying, as the programme team rapidly assembles tables in front of the pyramid of seats. "We'll now be asking you to complete your Simulacrum with your team, and we will re-evaluate you based on your performance." 

A Simulacrum is a device used to train Frontier explorers that generates a situation based on the information and options fed to its computer. It then projects the situation as a solid, three-dimensional energy field in which the challenger must navigate. It's impossible to predict just what exactly the Simulacrum would throw at you, but you can customize the options so, at least, you could have an idea of the possible combination of events you would have to react to. To Xiao Gui's knowledge, the evaluators have already taken a look at the options each team has given to their Simulacrums, and will be factoring in difficulty in their evaluation. 

The long tables for the evaluators have now been set up, and they take their places with Yixing in the middle. The chatter among the trainees resumes as the evaluators look through their paperwork, preparing for the first round of evaluations. 

"Hey, how old do you think Zhou Jieqiong is?" Zhang Yankai asks Xiao Gui in a low voice. "She's a fox, right?" 

Xiao Gui nods. "Fifty years or so? They say the prettier, the older." 

"If you go off that, she should be a hundred years old, at least.” 

He grunts in noncommittal agreement. The evaluators seem to be ready, now, and Zhang Yixing calls up the first group of trainees—"Mavericks." 

_What kind of a group name is that?_ he wonders. The group themselves seem less corny than their team name, though. They're not half bad, Xiao Gui is thinking, as they complete their Simulacrum, until Zhang Yixing announces their ranks—all Ds and Fs. All of a sudden, their own Fs don't feel too inaccurate. 

"Damn, all Ds and Fs?" Xingjie watches incredulously. "That guy who did an extra run should've gotten a C in my books." 

"We don't make the rules here, ge." Yanchen sighs. "Think we can do a bit better?" 

"At least better than this guy." Xiao Gui nods towards the contestant who is currently running through his Simulacrum. Dong Yanlei is his name. He's absolutely awful at it. "What's he even doing here?" 

"He trained for ten days, cut him some slack," Xingjie laughs. "His company probably just wanted someone to send." 

Unsurprisingly, Dong Yanlei gets an F, and so do the next few. Xu Kaihao from Wildfire, a Taiwan-based institution, is the first to make a B, although Xiao Gui isn't exactly too impressed. He's clearly a good fighter but his other skills are not too pronounced, if you ask him. But no one's asking him. 

Afterwards, there's another F and a couple of Ds, and Zhang Yixing is starting to look a little annoyed on the big screen. But then the next trainee is called—"Cai Xukun." 

The Amphitheatre falls silent, not for the first time today (although Xiao Gui guesses that it's edging into nighttime). The trainees all sit a little straighter in their seats as Cai Xukun takes his place. Xiao Gui himself takes his hands off his penknife, which he had started fidgeting with partway through the evaluation, and folds them in his lap.

Cai Xukun's Simulacrum starts simple; there's an average render of a Frontier serpent, as the things have come to be called, that he dispatches with an easy grace. It becomes a little bit more difficult when the terrain changes, and the simulated cliff Cai Xukun finds himself facing is more than a little higher and steeper than what is within normal capability of navigation. Cai Xukun is unfazed, however; he steps off the cliff before anyone can say anything about it and slows his fall with a burst of blue energy that encases him like guardian—dragonling perks. 

The rest of the Sim is little more challenge for the dragonling. Although Xiao Gui doesn't find the program anything special, he has to admit that Cai Xukun has the skills to take on much more. It's reflected in how perfectly he executes each movement, and how decisively he takes on each adversary. Befitting of someone who's done this before, and a crowd favourite, Xiao Gui supposes, and makes a note that Cai Xukun is one to watch as he makes the day's first A. 

* * *

Zhu Zhengting is trying his best. He's always trying his best, but sometimes it just doesn't seem enough, like now. Fan Chengcheng still looks like he's about to cry and Li Quanzhe about to pass out. Bi Wenjun is fidgeting with everything he can get his hands on and Huang Xinchun is chewing his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. 

He hates expectations, sometimes. Most of the time. Essentially all of the time. A good part of him wishes that they weren't from Yuehua; that way, there wouldn't be so much to live up to, so many people in eager wait of their good performance when half of them were only barely confident while the other half didn't feel so much as a semblance to readiness. Hell, another part of him wishes that they didn’t have to be here, but he knows better than to think that way; after all, most of them have no choice. 

"It's going to be okay, everyone," he assures his members, for what must be the fifth time in the last five minutes. "Don't be too nervous, do the best you can. Isn't that right, Justin, Zeren?" 

Justin—or Huang Minghao, although the boy rarely still goes by his full, legal name—and Ding Zeren both nod. They are less nervous than the others, or they hide it better. "You've got it, Zhengting," Justin agrees. At this time, another boy walks in—the one who had been called up just as they left for the preparation room, Chen Linong. "Gods, look, an A!" 

All the eyes in the room turn to him, and Chen Linong looks a bit uncomfortable as a member of the staff gives him an A sticker to replace his C. "Hi!"

"Give me a wave," Justin demands. The boy obliges, smiling widely. "An A just waved at me!"

Zhengting lets out a breath. Leave it to Justin to lighten the atmosphere. His team fawns over Chen Linong (whom, he has to admit, is absolutely adorable) until he leaves and a woman's voice calls, "Yuehua Research." 

"Come on, team," Zhengting says, standing straighter. He scans his group and sees Justin still giddy, Zeren confident, Wenjun smiling, Xinchun giving him a thumbs up, Quanzhe baring his teeth in a sad attempt to grin, and Chengcheng... Chengcheng still looks like a mess, but there isn't much left Zhengting could do about him. "If Cai Xukun can get an A, so can we." 

"But ge, Cai Xukun's _good_ ," Quanzhe protests. 

Zhengting crosses his arms. "If running a Sim that basic is _good_ , then so are we." Unlike most of the other trainees, he isn't exactly impressed by the dragonling's performance. Yes, his combat foundations are outstanding, he is an excellent shot, he is smart and fast and he has his dragon powers to back him up besides, but Zhu Zhengting expects more from a candidate so highly praised. Zhengting could do those things himself, and he's willing to believe his team can, too. "Now, are we ready?" 

"Yes, Zhengting," his members chorus obediently, some louder than others. "We're ready." 

More or less satisfied, Zhengting takes the lead and heads out towards the Amphitheatre. The evaluators are ready, and the Simulacrum primed to begin with gear pre-programmed. He leads his team in their introductions of their positions and at Zhang Yixing's signal, the Simulacrum activates. His team moves into the ready formation with practiced fluidity, Justin and Zeren taking the front while Wenjun and Quanzhe bringing up the rear. Zhengting stays in the middle where he can easily reach either end of their group and also keep Chengcheng and Xinchun within his reach should they need help. 

The terrain starts with the shore, or the Shore—it is one of the few actually mapped areas of the Frontier, and Yuehua boasts of one of the most accurate renderings of the region. Waves crash onto a black beach and a dark mist filled with hazards—known as the Shroud—hangs in the distance. Their Simulacrum would end when they successfully bypass it. 

"Move out," Zhengting orders. He hears the responses of his team and nods. They seem to be off to a good start—everyone sounds steady. 

"Zeren should go farther in front," Justin suggests. "No immediate dangers that I can sense." 

Zhengting affirms the suggestion and Zeren grins, disappearing in a cloud of dark feathers. A black bird flies forth from their group, scouting ahead as they move. 

" _Gatekeepers._ " Zeren's voice crackles through their earpieces, after a few moments. _"It's the fastest way through, though; get ready for confrontation."_

" _Roger that,_ " Zhengting responds. "You guys got it?" 

His team replies with positives. Zhengting takes a deep breath as Zeren returns to them, reverting from raven to human easily. "There are two of them and seven of us. Serpentine variety. Shouldn't be bad." 

"Since they don't have legs," Justin finishes the inside joke. There's a few quick, anxious laughs before they set out again, Zeren and Justin, their group's two witches, still in the lead. 

Zhengting evaluates their group carefully, which comprises the psychic and shapeshifting witches Justin and Zeren, the bard Wenjun, aura Xinchun, and the three humans—Chengcheng, Quanzhe, and himself. Serpentine Gatekeepers are nothing new to them, and they already have a strategy well-equipped for dealing with them. The only contingency left is their performance. 

"We're getting close," Zeren warns. "They might lash out, so be on your guard." 

They can make out the snake-like shapes of the Gatekeepers through the haze of the Shroud, and Zeren's warning comes to fruition as soon as the first red eye is seen through the gloom. A Gatekeeper lunges through the mist, fangs bared wide enough to swallow an entire person whole. Justin and Zeren dart backwards easily as Chengcheng and Quanzhe fan out to the side. Wenjun draws his firearm and takes a shot at the Gatekeeper; misses. Zhengting grits his teeth. Wenjun is usually a better shot. 

The second Gatekeeper has joined the fray, and it is much larger than the first. It wraps its long body around their group, dark scales scraping over the rocky landscape loudly. Quanzhe makes an attempt to jump out of the encircling, as does Xinchun, but the Gatekeeper keeps them trapped with a flick of its tail. Zhengting pulls them both back as the smaller serpent cleaves the earth where they stood. 

"Get it together," he hisses. Quanzhe nods with wide, frightened eyes. "Justin, now!" 

"On it." The youngest member of their team gets to work. Zhengting has never failed to be impressed by Justin's prowess—the entire Simulacrum rumbles as the simulated earth begins to rise, stone and sand encircling both Gatekeepers in miniature storms. "How's that?" 

"Good. Keep them trapped while we get out." Zhengting motions for the others to regroup as Justin pries the Gatekeepers apart so that they can escape through the opening. Wenjun takes the opportunity and fires several shots in quick succession at the smaller Gatekeeper, catching it in the eye once and two more times on the side of its head. Chengcheng follows up with his own shots, and straight down its throat is the finishing blow. 

Zhengting follows Justin and Zeren and focuses his efforts onto the larger Gatekeeper. He vaults over the stone pile left over from Justin's onslaught and draws both guns, firing with practiced precision in the weak spots of the serpent's armor. The Gatekeeper rears in pain and anger, but the distraction is just enough for Zeren, as a giant raven, to claw the creature's eyes and Justin to fill the serpent's throat with stones. The Simulacrum shudders and disappears as the Gatekeeper falls, and they find themselves back in the Amphitheatre. 

"Thank you for your performance," Zhang Yixing says, calmly. "After some deliberation we'll be ready to give you your scores."

Zhengting marshalls his team back into a tidy line and they bow together. He glances down the row and sees Wenjun doing his best to steady his breathing, Xinchun still chewing on his lower lip, and Quanzhe squeezing his eyes shut hard to keep back the tears. He feels a twinge of sympathy; Quanzhe did not perform his best, not even close to it. 

"Fan Chengcheng." Jackson Wang's voice suddenly breaks the quiet. "Would it be possible for us to see you perform alone? We believe we need some more information to come to a decision." 

Zhengting can feel Chengcheng stiffen beside him, on the verge of panic, but the boy steps forward with a soft "Alright." 

A new, shorter Simulacrum is quickly programmed for him. Zhengting stays silent, worrying, as Chengcheng takes his place, not ready at all but pretending to be. He's not visibly nervous, but he's always been good at hiding it. Those of them who have been with him for so long, though, are able to tell, and as the leader, Zhengting thinks that he is better at it than anyone. 


	3. zero (iii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zero—mc jin  
> i'll let go of everything, if it's what i have to do.

The interviews which follow the auditions don't sit well with Huang Minghao, but it's not like anyone is asking for his input. If he could physically pull Fan Chengcheng away from the cameras, though, he would do it without hesitation. 

Justin should feel proud of the new A he now sports on his nametag, but he doesn't really, not right now. After all, what's the point of doing well individually if your team doesn't succeed as a whole? While he knows that there's no way the whole team could make it to the end, he still has his part of a promise to keep—they would stay together and support one another for as long as possible.

He answers the questions posed for him concisely before dashing off to look for the rest of his team. Ding Zeren, Bi Wenjun, Huang Xinchun, and Li Quanzhe are waiting outside of closed doors anxiously. 

"Chengcheng and Zhengting are still being interviewed?" he asks. 

Zeren nods. He has an A, now, too. "I hope they're not giving them a hard time." 

Quanzhe is fidgeting with his sleeves. "Gods, if only I didn't mess up so badly. Then Zhengting wouldn't look bad, we wouldn't look bad, and-"

"Hey, it's fine, man." Justin puts one arm around Quanzhe's shoulder and slings the other one over Xinchun's. "First, getting an F doesn't even mean much. You're not going to get cut." 

"And, if you think of it this way, it's even better to get an F now but do better later," Wenjun supplies, himself a D. It's not much better but he's always been optimistic. "It kind of shows the audience that even without the privileges the higher ranks get, you're better than them. You just weren't at your best this one time." 

Quanzhe is hardly convinced but Xinchun nods enthusiastically. "You guys can count on us. We’ll do better." 

A nearby door snaps open and out strides Zhu Zhengting, every bit the confident, responsible leader the world has come to know. Beneath the composure and cosmetics and that crisp blue A, though, Justin can see how tired he is. Every moment he spent preparing for this is etched into his face. 

"Zhengting!" Justin chirps in greeting, hoping that it might brighten the mood. It doesn't really work, so he lets himself blend back into the group as their leader approaches. "How did things go?" 

"Just fine," he says dismissively. "Is Chengcheng still not finished?" 

Wenjun purses his lips. "Not yet." 

They wait in anxious anticipation for their last teammate to emerge from the interview room so they could head back to the dorms together. It's already four in the morning, as evaluations had lasted well into the night, and in the afternoon they would have to report back to the Amphitheatre for the first challenge they would take on as a hundred contestants. Justin yawns and pretends to go to sleep against Zeren's shoulder. 

Finally, Fan Chengcheng emerges from the interview room, looking absolutely miserable. There are tear tracks on his face, but no one points them out. "Sorry to keep you guys waiting." 

"Don't be," says Zhengting, much too cheerfully. "Let's go back and get some sleep. We don't want to be too tired for the next challenge."

The group responds with agreement and they head back to the dorms together; they split up into two groups once they arrive, Zhengting, Chengcheng, Xinchun, and Justin go one way and Zeren, Wenjun, and Quanzhe go another. This whole time, Justin keeps his arm around Chengcheng's shoulders, although the latter hardly says a word to him.

"I'm going to take a shower," Chengcheng announces as they're unpacking. Zhengting gives him the thumbs up and a grin, but turns to Justin worriedly the second Chengcheng disappears into the washroom. 

"I'm worried about him," their leader begins. "He just wasn't at his best today." 

Justin nods in agreement. "He'll be better. You know how hard it is with his family and all."

Justin can still remember the first time he met Fan Chengcheng in the practice room at the Yuehua headquarters in Beijing just after Justin had returned from a brief stint in Korea with Zhengting. They were quick friends. Despite being the youngest in their group, at fifteen, and younger than Chengcheng by almost two years, Justin always felt protective over him. Not much has changed since then, other than the fact that Justin had since closed the distance in their heights and Chengcheng had widened it in their relationship. 

The changes are recent, Justin thinks. Probably just the business with _NINE_ , right? He of all people knows well what's at stake for Chengcheng; he is risking ridicule and harassment and all kinds of abuse just by showing his face on television, just for a chance to prove the cruel words wrong. Justin doesn't know if it's worth it, if even the staff here mutter about him behind his back. 

_Look, it's Fan Bingbing's brother._

_Fan Chengcheng? He's the one they say…_

_Yeah. It isn't normal. I wonder how much money their family spends to keep the media as quiet as they are._

Chengcheng comes out of the washroom just as Justin finishes unpacking his belongings and changing into sleepwear. He calls the right to occupy the washroom next and quickly washes up; when he's finished, Chengcheng's already in bed, in the bunk above his, although Justin knows he isn't sleeping. He purses his lips but says nothing—there is nothing useful left to say, and Chengcheng probably wouldn't be listening, anyway. 

"Good night, guys," he calls, getting under his covers. Zhengting replies with the same from the washroom and Xinchun holds up the 'OK' symbol as he finishes organizing the drawers beneath his bunk. 

Justin ducks under his blankets and pulls the covers up over his face. Here, where he can’t hurt any of his teammates, he allows himself a private smile. 

It’s true that his team is off to a rough start, but he can feel it in his bones that Dachang will be where his dreams truly begin.

* * *

Lin Yanjun wants to brood over the yellow sweater he's been given to denote his fresh C ranking, until he remembers that it really could have been much worse. He did trip on a rock in the beginning, and he did slip up again when the evaluators asked him to run the Simulacrum a second time, alone. The only people who'd achieved any better in their group were You Zhangjing and Lin Chaoze, anyway, and they undoubtedly deserve it. 

Speaking of You Zhangjing, it already feels different without him there. They have always been inseparable, from the moment the Malaysian trainee joined their ranks a little over a year ago. Lin Yanjun was the leader of Trainee18, then, but he was shitty at his job—no close friends, and barely a little more authority. Zhangjing changed that, though. Sure, Yanjun joked and laughed with Lu Dinghao, played pranks on the others with Li Ruotian, ran hundreds of punishment laps with Gao Maotong, discussed their favourite books and movies with Bei Honglin, and let Qiu Zhixie mother him like the latter did everyone else—but he had no confidants until You Zhangjing. 

Now, as he unloads his belongings into the drawers under the bed given over to his use, he feels alone. The dorms were assigned four to a room, and it just so happens that there are nine of them in Trainee18. And it can't be a coincidence that Yanjun is the one left out—the only Taiwanese trainees outside of Trainee18 are in his dorm. He doesn't know if it's an attempt to make him feel more at home on the programme team's part but he tries his best to deal with the arrangement. 

His roommates are alright, though, even if Yanjun's the lowest ranker—there's Xu Kaihao, who is a little obnoxious and more than a little loud, but he's not all up on his high horse like anyone with fairy lineage tends to be. Then there's Li Changgeng, who is just as alone as he is, separated from the only other trainee from his company’s team. 

Finally, there's Chen Linong. Chen Linong is all smiles and bright eyes, a veritable ball of sunshine. Befitting of the sunflower that is his nymph's Heart. The pink of the A-rank sweater, which Yanjun finds kind of ridiculous on people like Wang Ziyi and Cai Xukun, suits him in a way that it would suit no one else. 

Chen Linong is presently busy catching up with Xu Kaihao, as the two seem to be longtime friends. Li Changgeng is finishing unpacking, and Yanjun considers a shower before remembering that it's almost five a.m. and spending what little time to rest they had until the first challenge showering would not be prudent. 

So he tells the others that he's turning in for the night—or rather, morning—and goes to bed. For the first time in a long time, he dreams. 

In his dreams, he's his other self. He slinks through shadows with soundless grace on soft, padded feet, unsure of a destination. It takes him a while to recognize the halls—they're his new surroundings, the sleek corridors of Dachang, dark and foreign. 

Down on the other end, he hears voices. He doesn't really recognize them from this distance but he speeds up, relying on the darkness to keep him hidden as he approaches. As he nears, he sees two trainees talking to each other. Their faces are shrouded in shadows but both their sweaters are pink—A-rankers. He gets just a little bit closer when something suddenly explodes, and fire engulfs his vision. 

* * *

He made the day's final A. Wang Ziyi is still trying hard to be satisfied with that fact ten hours later, but it's hard. The fact that he's just meeting expectations set for him is entrenched in him, and it frustrates him more than a little bit. 

"Earth to Ziyi?" Sun Haoran is waving a hand in his face. "What's up with you today? Didn't get enough sleep?" 

"Did any of us?" Li Zhijie snorts. "Wang Ziyi, does that A mean you're too good to talk to the rest of us?" 

"Of course not," he protests. "I was just thinking, sorry." 

"Thinking, thinking, you're always thinking." Jin Yihan shakes his head. "That's why you're never doing dumb shit with the rest of us." 

"And it's also why I have an A," he offers, earning himself several slaps on the back from his teammates. "I'm paying attention now, what are you guys talking about?" 

Haoran sighs. "We're taking guesses as to what the first challenge will be. I think it'll just be a Shore simulation. Zhijie thinks we'll get to the Shroud. Yihan doesn't think we're doing a Simulacrum at all. When Haokai gets here I'm sure he thinks that we're doing a Simulacrum, just not at the Frontier, because we've all got to have different guesses. It's your turn, now."

Ziyi shrugs. "I guess that we're going to all run the same Simulacrum solo," he says. "The evaluators did say that we're getting new ranks." 

"Alright, good guess." Haoran accepts it as if he is a teacher collecting answers from his students. "Time to find out." 

They head to the Amphitheatre together, meeting Lin Haokai at the foyer of the dormitory building. Ziyi watches the other trainees file out of the building in their own little groups. Yuehua's seven laugh like schoolchildren as if last night's setback was nothing; the Gramarie four have a fifth hanging off of them, some old friend; Banana's Trainee18 move in an intimidating group of nine, seeming even larger than they are because of their heavy winter attire. 

Some trainees are alone, too. Ziyi spots the infamous Cai Xukun walking through the snow, hands in his pockets and eyes seeing nothing but straight ahead. There's a kid behind him—an excellent navigator, Ziyi remembers from the evaluations—struggling to keep pace. 

The dragonling intrigues him. Everyone knows Cai Xukun, long before he was announced to be participating in _NINE_ alongside the rest of them. He first made his appearance with SWIN, an exploration team everyone thought would be the first group to breach the First Ring since EXO (in the famous expedition now dubbed the Exodus). Only, they weren't. They never even set foot on the Shore before they fell to pieces. Details as to why were never released by their company.

Cai Xukun intrigues Wang Ziyi because he's always been particular with things such as _expectation_. Cai Xukun is a living, breathing expectation. 

The contestants are corralled into the area that, the night before, served as the stage where they ran through their Simulacrums. Once all one hundred of them are present, they are segregated by their ranks. Ziyi bids goodbye to the rest of his team, all of whom attained Bs.

Now he stands amongst the pink-shirted A-rankers. On his left is Lin Chaoze, the leader of Trainee18—the imp is like a whirlwind, he remembers; quick on his feet and sharp as his knives. In conversation with him is Chen Linong; the Taiwanese boy is only seventeen, if Ziyi recalls correctly, but his foundations are excellent for the time he’s spent training. Past him, there's the three from Yuehua who'd all been assigned A—Zhu Zhengting, Ding Zeren, and Justin Huang. Their display had been quite impressive; Zhu Zhengting is a decisive leader, Ding Zeren a keen scout and a good combatant, and Justin Huang is a powerful psychic. Their odds are good.

And then there's Cai Xukun. 

He stands a little apart from everyone else, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Ziyi isn't sure if he's too proud or too shy to talk to everyone else, but something tells him to take his chances. 

"Hey." He sidles up to the dragonling in greeting. "I'm Wang Ziyi." 

Cai Xukun regards him with a polite smile and unreadable eyes. "Cai Xukun." 

"You didn't need to introduce yourself," Ziyi jokes. "We all know who you are, anyway."

"It doesn't make me exempt from etiquette," he replies smoothly. Ziyi decides that he likes that, the dry humour. "You're from BBT?" 

Ziyi nods, extending a hand for him to shake. "Yeah. It's nice to meet you." 

"Likewise," Xukun echoes. "I heard you guys have been to the Frontier before." 

"Just the Shore. For like half an hour." He shrugs, remembering the rather uneventful training mission their company had allowed them to undertake. They didn't even leave the Base, much less get close to the Shroud. "We didn't do much, to be honest. It was like any other Sim." 

Cai Xukun hums in understanding. Ziyi tries to guess at what he's thinking, to no avail. He guards his expression well. 

"So," he ventures again, "what do you think the first challenge is going to be?"

Xukun shrugs. "Probably just a solo Simulacrum." 

"That's what I told my team," Ziyi says. "Think we can keep our A?"

"Yes," the dragonling replies. The statement doesn't sound as if it's meant to be confident. It just is. "It's not meant to be impossible." 

Ziyi grins. He likes the sound of that—if it's not impossible, then he'd do it. "Nice. I'll take your word for it, then." 

Cai Xukun smiles. It’s a tentative thing. 

Zhang Yixing chooses now to make his entrance with the other evaluators, each one of them carrying a briefcase. 

"Hello everyone," the commander greets them. "I hope your first night here went well." 

"Did he really just say 'night'?" Ziyi hears the youngest member of the Yuehua team, Justin, mutter under his breath. Ding Zeren gives an answering snicker. 

"We're here with the first challenge that you will be taking on as a group," Zhang Yixing goes on. "Ten days from now, you will all be running a Simulacrum from Shore to Shroud, and it will likely be the most difficult Simulacrum you have taken on to date." 

A mutter runs through the crowd of trainees. Some are nervous—it's the most difficult Simulacrum, supposedly. Others are dismissive—they have ten days to prepare. 

"However," the commander continues, "In three days, you will first be re-evaluated based on how well you perform the first section of the Sim. Those who remain at or drop to rank F will not be allowed to participate in the full run, which will be televised." 

The mutterings turn into gasps. Zhang Yixing is unfazed by the surprise. "We have here a copy of the Simulacrum for all of you. There are exactly nine hundred ninety-nine three-minute combinations that the Sim might take on the day of the televised run, and the best way you can prepare is to run through it as many times as possible before then to familiarize yourself with the possibilities." 

The navigation evaluator, Li Ronghao, steps up to take the baton. "In three days you have until our re-evaluation, we advise you practice as much as you can to ensure that you will be able to participate in the televised run. Remember, the first round of eliminations, which will be at the end of the month, are purely dependent on popular vote." 

If he has the intention of causing nervous uproar amongst the contestants, Li Ronghao achieves that goal. Ziyi can not only hear but feel the anxious energy buzzing in the air behind him, where ninety-three trainees suffer varying degrees of panic, and it's a little bit infectious. 

He looks around at his fellow A-rankers. Lin Chaoze is pumped. Chen Linong is a bit nervous. The Yuehua three crack jokes only they would understand. And Cai Xukun is like still water. 

"We will call you up by rank to receive the Simulacrum, and then you will be dismissed to practice," says Zhang Yixing. "One simulator will be set up in each training room, which you will be assigned based on rank. While one person is in the Sim, the others can use the remaining space to practice, spar, or whatever else you do to prepare; just say the word and we can provide you with equipment."

Zhou Jieqiong, one of the combat evaluators, steps forward. "After hours, there are also other rooms that you can use for extra practice. Simulators are set up there as well." 

"And we'll be coming around to supervise your progress," Jackson Wang adds, speaking up from the ranks of the evaluators. "Feel free to ask questions. Remember, we're not only your evaluators, we're also your mentors."

"A recording of you completing the first minute of the Sim will be due to us three days from now at midnight," Li Ronghao reminds them. "When you are ready to record, you can access the option in the simulation. However, please note that you only get one chance to record; however you perform after you hit the button will be what you submit to us." 

On that rather ominous note, the mentors called up Rank A to receive their copies of the Simulacrum. Wang Ziyi is the last in the group to receive it, which is a little black flash drive with a glowing blue V carved into its surface. 

"Hey, we were right," he says to Cai Xukun, holding up a fist. The dragonling stares at it for a moment as if it's something foreign, before seemingly understanding and giving it a bump. "Are you ready for this?" 

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replies, flipping the flash drive over in his hand. "What about you?" 

Ziyi grins. "No reason not to be." 

They join the rest of the A-rankers and head off to their assigned training room together. It's a nicer space than Ziyi is used to, compared to when he trained with BBT, and judging from the soft gasps around him, the others are impressed, too. 

The simulator is set up in one corner, and a Simulacrum would likely take up two-thirds of the room. As Lin Chaoze prepares to go first, the others cram themselves into the remaining third of the room to warm up. 

Wang Ziyi looks around at his fellow trainees and thinks that he'd like to get used to this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these were the last of our regular pov characters though i do have a couple of bonus povs once in a while,, hehe. let me know what you guys think of the story so far! i tried really hard to make the details matter :3


	4. hold on (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hold on—lay  
> hold on when you might be falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so the plot thickens. this one was a ride, had some fun writing it :)

He has always been the only trainee in his company, so Chen Linong is still getting used to watching other trainees jump at nothing while they run the Sim. To an outsider, a Simulacrum looks like a dense grid of red lines in the air and on the floor, unless they observe from the simulator's monitor. He is not doing that, so he just has to make do with watching Lin Chaoze beat up the air while he does his warm-up stretches. 

"I'll go next," he offers. His fellow A-rankers don't object. In fact, two from Yuehua—Zhu Zhengting and Huang Minghao—are too busy sleeping on the floor to voice any dissent. He admires their nonchalance, but he'd be lying if it doesn’t throw him off a bit. 

Lin Chaoze finishes the three-minute Simulacrum sweaty but grinning wide. "That shit's intense," he tells them. "But it's the best Sim I've ever seen." 

"What do you mean by that?" Ding Zeren asks. Chen Linong remembers him well—the shapeshifting witch from Yuehua. "Is it accurate?" 

"I wouldn't know about accurate if I haven't been to the Frontier," says Lin Chaoze, shrugging, "but it's super HD and the Frontier beasts actually have brains. How cool is that?" 

That doesn't really reassure Linong, if he thinks about it—he's already not sure he deserves the A he has. It feels like he just got lucky. His fellow A-rankers seem much more powerful than he is. If this Sim is the hardest they've ever seen, could he really keep his rank? 

"Are you ready, Linong?" Chaoze asks him. 

He nods, standing. Walking over to the simulator, he plugs his copy of the Simulacrum into the machine and watches it whirr to life, constructing an energy field and the three-dimensional structures within it. He's done this so many times in the past six months that he feels like he can do a Sim with his eyes closed, but the anxiety that used to accompany his ventures is now making a return. Maybe it's Dachang making the difference, maybe it's his nerves, or maybe a part of him already knows that the evaluators were not exaggerating. 

"Ready," a robotic female voice says. A floating holographic panel appears before him. "The Simulacrum will commence when you indicate 'yes.'" 

_Fancy,_ Linong thinks. The Sims he had back in Taiwan were ruder; they tended to just throw him into the Frontier right away, with maybe thirty seconds to choose his gear. 

He opens the equipment option to look for his simulated weapons and gear; for obvious reasons, they could not be using real firearms and such in a Simulacrum. The energy interacted with the participant, but offered no protection to onlookers. 

Linong is pleased to find that the guns he usually favours are part of the options, and equips those without hesitation. There are plenty of other tools he doesn't recognize, and decides that he could save the experimentation for some other time. He wants his first run to be the best possible gauge of how he measures up to this Sim. 

He touches the 'yes' button with one finger after choosing the appropriate protective gear. The Sim puts the weight on his shoulders as if the clothing was actually there. 

"Simulacrum commencing now," the voice says. The options panels disappear and the Frontier landscape blooms before his eyes; he's standing on the Shore, the dark beach extending for miles into the mists to his left and right. Far ahead in front of him, the Shroud hangs menacingly, disguising behind the fog the many dangers the Frontier is so well known for. Not for the first time, Linong wonders why this, of all things, is what he chose to do with his life. He needed the quick money, true, but does he need to get beat up?

He starts walking towards the Shroud, picking his way through the jagged rock piles that litter the beach of black sand. There is no objective to this Sim, only that it'll conclude in three minutes. The evaluators must just be looking at how he responds to the challenges that arise during that time. 

It takes about fifteen seconds for the first hurdle to show itself—Frontier serpents. They're snake-like creatures about the size of tigers that live under rock piles, and they seem to be the most common thing in this area of the Frontier. There are others, Linong knows, but most Simulacrums stick to the serpent simply because they have the most accurate modelling of its attack patterns. 

Linong is faced with three of them. He curses himself for not noticing, in his nervousness, the tell-tale signs around the rock piles near him—slither tracks in the sand and a scattering of shedded scales. One is fine, two is still alright, but three could be a handful. 

The one closest to him, at his ten o'clock, lashes out with startling speed. Linong jumps out of the way, making sure to keep the one behind him away by brandishing his firearm. The third, at his two o'clock, closes in on the opportunity and goes straight for his neck. 

He ducks, firing off one shot at the farthest snake to keep it at bay before engaging the closest one. Lin Chaoze is right, he realizes a bit belatedly—the simulated serpents are smarter than any he'd ever faced before. They dodge his counterattacks easily as if they analyze his attack patterns while he analyzes theirs. 

The largest snake, the one with the russet scales at his ten o'clock, lunges at him with fangs bared. _There is no holding back._ He focuses on his ability and tugs, a gnarled wall of vines and branches erupting through the sand and trapping the serpent within it. With one safely trapped, he is able to fend off the other two... until the serpent tears through its cage. 

_Shit,_ he thinks, leaping backwards. That was his mistake, because there are two other monsters lying in wait for the opportunity. 

They both attack, one taking his forearm into its fangs as he trips. Linong grunts in frustration, and uses his free hand to fire off a blast of energy at it. The beam hits, thank goodness, and the serpent lets go, angered. The others keep their distance for now as they realize he can do damage after all. 

He evaluates the damage done to his body. The protective gear on his arm is useless now—the serpent may as well had crushed the guard, and probably broke the skin underneath, if the pain is telling. Contrary to popular belief, Simulacrums can do real, tangible damage to participants; they're just carefully tuned to make sure that it stops short of lasting. 

Linong backs away from the serpents, trying to discern his next move. He shuffles until his back is to a rock pile. For a second he thinks that means that nothing can get him from behind, until he hears a raspy, exhalant sound behind him.

He raises his arms, draws out his power into a twisted shield around him, and braces himself.

The Simulacrum has concluded. The serpents disappear with the black beach and sharp rocks. Linong is on his knees on the floor, the red lines fading away back into the simulator. Lin Chaoze stands at the monitor, wearing a concerned expression. 

"Rough, wasn't it?" He walks over and offers Linong a hand. He takes it gratefully, seeing a mess of bruising on his forearm as his sleeve falls back a little. "I was watching. It'll get better. You've only trained for, what, six months? And only two of those months in combat." 

Linong nods, standing up with Chaoze's help. He's panting, and the back of his pink sweater is soaked through with sweat. "Thanks."

"No worries." Lin Chaoze smiles and claps him on the back. "You'll get the hang of it eventually. Now, who's next?" 

Chen Linong watches as the famous dragonling, once a member of the training team SWIN, stands up from the wall, where he had been sitting with Wang Ziyi from BBT. Cai Xukun loads into the Simulacrum with no sign of nervousness on his face and runs through it with practiced ease. But even he stumbles a couple of times, and is breathing hard when it's over. 

It's going to be a long three days, Linong thinks. 

And when the three days are up, he realizes that it was much too little time. 

* * *

Lin Yanjun watches the water run down his body, the body he's always been so proud of, the body that seems to fail him when it matters. There's so much steam in the washroom now that he can hardly breathe. He thinks that it might be time to stop, but who's to blame that the hot water is the only thing he can look to for comfort (which he won't ever admit aloud to needing)? 

His sister has always made jokes every time he spent more than half an hour in the shower, which became more and more frequent once he started volunteering to foot the water bill. _You're a cat,_ she'd say. _And cats should hate water._

 _And you're a fox,_ he'd quip back. _Aren't foxes the same?_

He wonders what she might think once his performance airs. Would she be disappointed? Embarrassed? What would she think of her overconfident big brother dropping from a self-declared A to a humbling C to a D, which would have been unthinkable for him, once upon a time? 

To make matters worse, Lin Chaoze stayed in A. Bei Honglin was promoted to B. Qiu Zhixie, Lu Dinghao, and Jiang Jingzuo stayed in C. And his best friend, You Zhangjing, made A. 

He doesn't want to be jealous, but he can't really help himself. He'd never felt that kind of distance between his own skills and that of his teammates when they were training in Shanghai, but somehow coming here and being assigned letters and different coloured sweaters changed all of that. 

He turns off the water. It isn't at all cold when he gets out of the shower, so choked is the room with steam. He takes his sweet time drying off and changing; if he's been in the shower for an hour already, what's the harm of killing some more time? 

Outside the washroom, Chen Linong is sitting on his bunk with his towel in his lap. 

"Have you been waiting long?" Yanjun asks him. 

"No, not too long." _No shit_ looks like it's hanging on his lips, but the guy is clearly much too nice to actually say it.

Chen Linong walks past him and closes the door behind him with a quiet click. Yanjun hangs his towel to dry and sits down at the desk he shares with his roommates, his training journal open to a fresh page. For whatever reason, the programme requires trainees to keep a log of their progress, but it suits him fine. He's always liked writing things down. 

He's just finishing his entry when Chen Linong comes out of the washroom. Yanjun is thinking that he's quick when he remembers, a little guiltily, that there can't be much hot water left in the tank after his squandering. 

"Are you doing okay?" he asks the younger trainee. Chen Linong's signature smile is notably absent and the seven-foot sunflower sitting next to the window is also looking a little down. 

"Yeah, I'm doing great," he answers, but the fake smile is very much telling. "What makes you think otherwise?" 

Yanjun motions to the plant. "It's looking a little sad." 

"I'm okay, really," the boy insists. "Just getting used to new surroundings. Besides, they worked you so hard in the A-class; I'll be more comfortable in C, anyway." 

So that _was_ it. Yanjun stands up and tosses his journal onto his bunk. "Come with me." 

Linong puts his towel down, puzzled. "Why, what's up?" 

"You're getting used to new surroundings, right?" Yanjun gives him a dimpled grin. "You'd need to know your neighbours for that." 

Linong pads along curiously as Yanjun heads out of their room. Down the hall, he can hear the other members of his team shouting at each other as if this were still the Trainee18 dorms and they owned the place. Zhangjing was right—he does miss that. 

He knocks on the door. 

"Coming!" Lin Chaoze's voice comes from inside. "Who is it?" 

Yanjun lowers his voice. "Take a guess." 

He hears Chaoze call to the others, "Hey, Lin Yanjun is here!" 

The door flies open. Chaoze is standing behind it, and inside the room, You Zhangjing is sitting on his bed in his ridiculous mismatched pajamas, Lu Dinghao is lying on the floor with a pillow on his face, and Bei Honglin is peeking out from the washroom with only half a shirt on. 

"Great first impression, guys," he snickers, stepping into the room with Linong in tow. 

Zhangjing glares at him. "You didn't tell us you had company." 

"Well, that's okay," Chaoze says dismissively. "Nongnong isn't a stranger." 

"'Nongnong?''" Zhangjing asks. "Can we call you that?" 

The boy nods, a little timidly. "Yeah, it's fine." 

Yanjun steps out of the room and knocks on the door next to theirs. "Zhixie, bring the others over here. We're having a party." 

"Lin Yanjun, it's too late-" 

"Party? Who said party?" Li Ruotian's voice comes from the other side of the wall. "Don't listen to Qiu Zhixie!" 

The door bursts open and Gao Maotong and Li Ruotian quickly pile themselves into the other Trainee18-occupied room. Qiu Zhixie pokes his head out, looking a little exasperated, as Jiang Jingzuo decisively follows the other two out. 

"It's not quiet hours yet." Yanjun grins and heads back to Zhangjing's room, knowing Zhixie will follow, even if he complains incessantly. 

Back in the room, his teammates are positively fawning over Chen Linong. Save Maotong, they are all older than the nymph, and his preternatural charm helps, too. Yanjun is content with sitting down on Zhangjing's bunk, leaning back to watch Trainee18 work their magic. 

"Gods, you didn't tell me you had a roommate like this." You Zhangjing takes a seat next to him. "He's adorable." 

"Well, isn't it better to introduce him to you guys this way?" Yanjun asks. "Besides, it's been a wild three days. There hasn't been much time to talk." 

Zhangjing pouts a little bit. "And whose fault is that?" 

"You can't be saying it's mine." 

"Come over more," the siren suggests. "Or make it into A." 

Yanjun's smile falls. "That might've been possible, once." 

At this, Zhangjing stays silent and, for a second, Yanjun is afraid that he might've accidentally killed his mood. He shouldn't have let his own disappointment get the better of him. But then Zhangjing slaps him on the back, face breaking into that rabbit-toothed grin he has. 

"Cheer up, Lin Yanjun," he says. "A or D means nothing after this challenge. Just do better next time, and next thing you know you'll be in top nine." 

Yanjun's dimples are back, tentatively. Sometimes, he wonders if Zhangjing is using his siren abilities when he talks to him—everything he says is more convincing than it should be when it comes out of his mouth. "Thanks, You Zhangjing." 

“That’s what I’m here for.” Zhangjing leans into his shoulder, always a sucker for physical affection. Yanjun gently returns the pressure, more than glad for it. 

A part of him misses the days he had You Zhangjing as his confidant, at any time. 

He wants to be able to tell Zhangjing about the dreams he's been having since coming to Dachang—the trainees and the fire, the desert storm, the lightning over the roiling sea. But Zhangjing can't afford any distractions, and neither can he. 

"It's getting late; we should head back and get some rest." Unsurprisingly, Qiu Zhixie is the first one to stand up and initiate the exodus from Zhangjing's dorm. "Remember, we're starting training with our new groups tomorrow, and I'm sure we want to do our best." 

"Alright, Nongnong, let's go." Yanjun puts his hand on Zhangjing's shoulder in goodbye and crosses over to the door. Chen Linong stands from where Lin Chaoze is showering him with snacks from his stash, and he's smiling brightly. "See you guys later." 

"Bye, Nongnong!" Trainee18 choruses, with waves and grins. No one bothers batting an eye at Yanjun, and he rolls his eyes in mock offense. 

As they walk back to their room, there's a clear change in Linong's demeanor. Back in their room, the sunflower Heart is standing as straight as it used to; Yanjun may be imagining it, but it even seems to be giving off an aura. 

"Thanks, Yanjun," Linong tells him as they get ready for bed. He is storing the treats Chaoze gave him in the drawers under their bunk. "I think I needed that. Your friends are great." 

"It's nothing." Yanjun smiles at him. "Glad you like them. Most think they're a handful." 

Xu Kaihao and Li Changgeng come back to the dorm just a little bit after quiet hours begin at midnight, claiming they were both still practicing, but Yanjun knows that Kaihao was trying to swindle instant noodles out of the other trainees and he heard, earlier, the sound of Changgeng’s guitar floating through the halls.

It's different from what he'd expected, Yanjun reflects. He thought they were here to compete. He thought his opponents would have no reservations, that they would be ruthless and driven. He was prepared to do the same. 

Instead it's... this, and he doesn't know if this makes it harder or easier for him. 

Linong turns out the lights and bids everyone goodnight. Yanjun thinks it would be easy to fall asleep, but he's proven wrong as he lies awake even after Xu Kaihao's quiet snores begin humming in the background. 

He's thinking about his rank, about his family, about his team, about his dreams. 

A thought chills him and keeps him up for an hour longer. 

The trainees in his dream are A-ranked. 

There are two A-rankers in Trainee18 now. 

* * *

Group sparring is over, and Cai Xukun doesn't think that he's ever been more grateful in his life. He ignores the concerned glance You Zhangjing gives him from behind a bottle of water and the suspicious glare Zhu Zhengting shoots him from the corner and excuses himself from the room. 

He stumbles mere steps away from the door and looks around to make sure that no one had seen. There's a camera, but it's angled away from him, thank the gods. 

It's hard to stay upright walking down the hall when your entire body feels as if it's on fire one moment and freezing over the next, but Xukun does his best. He brushes against the wall for stability as he awkwardly drags himself into the washroom, finds the nearest stall, and collapses against the door.

 _Fuck_. His sleeves are burning. He's never had so little control before, and his frustration at this truth only makes matters worse. In a few moments, the stall smells like smoke and the pink of his sweater is turning black at the wrists.

He doesn't know how long it takes for him to regain full control but by the time he does he's lightheaded as fuck and the fabric of his sleeves can crumble in his hands. His heart pounds in his chest and his throat is tight and he can't go out like this—everyone would know. So he sits in the stall until he thinks he can walk properly, pulls his shirt over his head, and runs out into the hall. 

It's empty but he pushes himself until the corridors fly past him in blurs of colour. He's out the door and running across the courtyard through the snow, the key to his room already in hand when he bursts into the dormitory building. It's empty, too—everyone else is still training. Or should be training, because he reaches the room he shares with Qian Zhenghao, Zhou Rui, and Qin Zimo and hears someone inside. 

He wants to turn and run but the door opens, and out steps Zhou Rui with his long hair a mess and an ice pack over a blackening eye. The siren looks at him incredulously out of one eye, taking in his heaving, bare chest and the charred mess of a sweater in his hand. Which he should have disposed of. Xukun stands there just awkwardly and waits for the other to speak first.

“A-are you okay?” Zhou Rui asks. 

“Yeah,” he says. He is no longer frozen, so he walks past a confused Zhou Rui and locks himself in their room. After a few more moments, Zhou Rui's footfalls retreat down the hall and Xukun lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. 

_Cai Xukun, you are such a massive fuck-up._

What was he thinking, running across Dachang half-naked? Oh, right—he _wasn't_ thinking at all. 

He tosses his burned shirt into the trash and slips the white standard trainee sweater over his head. He'll have to ask the evaluators for another rank sweater later; the gods only know what he would say. _“I set it on fire, sorry.”_

It doesn't matter, though, does it? Zhou Rui saw him; people must be talking by now. The godforsaken siren would tell the Gramarie team first, probably, and that Zhou Yanchen would tell his friend—the witch from Yuehua, the one who can turn into a bird. And once Yuehua knows, all of Dachang would be as good as in the know, too. 

With that in mind, he takes out the trash and replaces the bag. He's just searching for his medication when he hears a knock on the door. He wants to ignore it, but he slips the pills back into the locked box and answers his guest. 

“Commander Zhang,” he says, surprised. Zhang Yixing stands in the doorway, Zhou Rui peeking over his shoulder. _Goddamn._

“Trainee Cai Xukun.” He's curt. “Can I come in?”

Xukun steps away from the door to allow the commander entry. Before he shuts the door again, he makes sure to glare daggers at Zhou Rui. The siren pulls a pleading, apologetic face before disappearing down the hall. 

“Sit,” says Zhang Yixing. He's already made himself comfortable in the leather swivelling chair at the single desk in the room.

Xukun sits on his bed. 

“What brings you here, Commander?” he asks carefully. 

Zhang Yixing waves a hand. “There's no need for formalities here. Call me Teacher instead, or even call me Yixing, I don't care.”

He makes the amendment. “Then what brings you here, Teacher?”

Zhang Yixing leans forward in the chair, his elbows braced on his knees. His face betrays nothing of what he is thinking, and all of a sudden Xukun finds himself intimidated. 

"Care to tell me why none of us knew that you had a problem?" he asks. "'Us' being the evaluators." 

"What problem?" Xukun deflects immediately. "With all due respect, Commander, I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. If it's about leaving training today, I'm-"

"You and I both know that's not what I'm here about," Yixing interrupts him coldly. Xukun fights the urge to shrink back against the wall. The commander's countenance softens some. "I'm not here to reprimand you, Cai Xukun. I’ve been here myself, and I'm here to help you. Give me your hand." 

He does as told, watching the commander warily. Yixing takes his hand and prods his palm with cool fingers, frowning. 

"How long has this been going on for?" he asks. There is genuine concern in his eyes and Xukun hates that he wants to tell this commander everything, as if this is not information that could jeopardize his chances. 

"Before SWIN. Since I was fourteen," he admits. 

"That long?" asks Yixing incredulously. He nods. "What are you using to manage it?" 

“I have medication.” 

“Let me see it,” Yixing commands. 

Xukun kneels down in front of the drawers under his bed to retrieve the box. He unlocks it, flicks open the lid, and shows Yixing the little drawstring bag. The commander takes one look inside, and the expression that flashes over his face, Xukun thinks, is horror. 

“Pangolin,” he says, after a period of silence. “This is the strongest medication you can take for dual-lineage incompatibility. And it’s not working for you?” 

“It’s not really meant for my condition, Commander,” Xukun says.

"What do you mean by that?" 

The corners of his mouth liftslightly, and his smile must be bitter because it sure tastes that way to him. "I... have three lineages." 

Yixing sucks in a breath. "You can't be serious." 

"Do I look like I'm joking, Commander?" 

Zhang Yixing just purses his lips and they sit in silence for a little bit. Finally, the commander says, "You're endangering everyone with your condition, you know. What if you lost control?" Something inside Xukun goes cold, scared that this chance might be taken away from him, this chance at life he's tried so hard for. "But this is your only chance, isn't it?" 

Xukun swallows and nods. "I need to make it to the Frontier."

Yixing stands. "And I'll see what we can do to keep you alive until then." 


	5. hold on (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hold on—lay  
> i know how you feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll pick up where we left off last chapter at the end of this one! yixing pov coming btw, don't be surprised :)

It’s not lonely in the D-class, at the very least. Fan Chengcheng has Bi Wenjun to keep him company, and a good number from the C-class dropped, to make their class the biggest one of all. 

After sparring, he escapes the stuffy training room with Wenjun and they head up to the fourth floor of the training building, where all trainees who want some privacy know to go—no cameras, no staff, and devoid of cleaning supplies, the fourth floor’s unused broom closet has become a favourite haunt of theirs in the days since they’ve arrived at Dachang. 

“Where do you think we’re ranked, right now?” Chengcheng asks Wenjun as they sit down in the closet. The space is a bit cramped, especially with how tall Wenjun is, but they make do. 

“Last I checked, you’re still up there,” Wenjun tells him. When they first arrived for _NINE_ , their cell phones and any other device they could use to contact the outer world were confiscated, but a few of them were able to keep their devices hidden from the searching staff, and Bi Wenjun is included in that count. Fan Chengcheng is not so lucky, but it’s not like he has money left on his phone plan. “I’m not looking too great, though.” 

Chengcheng feels bad for Wenjun, but he can’t say he isn’t relieved. Their rankings with the audience are updated daily, and somehow Chengcheng sits at a solid third place. Above him, there are only Cai Xukun and Chen Linong (who is, surprisingly, second, although the nymph seems to have no idea). He can’t quite pin down a reason for it. Did the audience see the efforts, the tears, or the fact that he’s Fan Bingbing’s brother? 

He never expected that status to give him any advantages here. In fact, he’d expected the things he’d heard about him behind his back, spreading rumours, calling him unnatural, cursed, not-to-be-trusted. Yet, he is in third place, and that is a reality that surprises him, delights him, and scares him all at the same time.

He wouldn’t put it past the programme team, or the audience, to have put him there just to see him fall. After all, isn’t that what people do? 

“Should we go back?” he asks Wenjun. 

The bard shrugs. “It’s individual practice time. I’m sure the simulators are all being used. We can go get food now and come back when everyone else is eating lunch. That way we wouldn’t have to wait too long for our turn.”

“Smart.” 

He gets up and heads down to the training room to grab his coat. The cafeteria is in the same building as the dorms, so they would have to go out into the cold to reach it.

Wenjun follows him but they soon lapse into silence. The bard (it took Chengcheng a good while to figure out that he is a siren-human halfling) is good company, he thinks, but they’ve never been the closest with each other. In the group, Wenjun seems to get along best with Zhu Zhengting or Ding Zeren. 

As for Chengcheng himself, he craves the company of one person the most—Justin. But between the competition and the practice and all the shit that’s going on inside his head, they’ve felt more distant than they’ve ever been before. He’s not sure if it’s his fault, but something inside him keeps on telling him it is. 

“Wenjun,” he says, getting the elder’s attention. “Do you think Justin’s mad at me?” 

“Mad at you?” Wenjun asks. “Why would he be mad at you? Did you two argue?” 

“No.” Chengcheng tucks his hands deeper into his pockets as they trudge through the snow. “Just a feeling.”

Wenjun shoots him a side glance. “Don’t dwell on it. If he isn’t talking to you as much, it probably means that he’s stressed out, too. The challenge is in two days. You aren’t the only one feeling the pressure, you know.” 

Chengcheng kicks a chunk of ice off the path. “Yeah. I know.”

* * *

You Zhangjing cheers with the rest of the class as Li Junyi finishes his run of the Simulacrum perfectly, like all the rest of them before. The A-class is ready to take on the challenge, and their evaluators look on with satisfaction. 

“This is it for today, then.” Zhou Jieqiong claps her hands together. “You guys are welcome to practice more in this room or the others, but I think you’re all well prepared. Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” the trainees chorus. Zhou Jieqiong and Cheng Xiao take their leave. 

Tomorrow is the day that all seven current members of the A-class are to compete for the position of leader for the challenge on the day after, who would be allowed to give other trainees advice while they’re in their Sims and would also likely receive the largest share of screentime. They would all run a custom Simulacrum of their own choosing, and their fellow trainees in the other classes would vote. You Zhangjing doesn’t think that the leader will be him—more likely, it’ll be someone like Cai Xukun or Zhu Zhengting, who are popular with the audience and nothing short of revered by the other contestants. He’s alright with that.

Speaking of those two, though, he gives them each a glance. They stand on opposite sides of the room, neither acknowledging the other as Zhengting talks to Zhang Yixuan and Xukun drinks water silently. Zhangjing doesn’t know if the others can feel it, as he has always been more discerning than most, but there’s a grating tension between the two of them that seems to grow thicker by the day. 

It makes some sense if he thinks about it. Cai Xukun is the lone wolf, a solitary prodigy lauded as the next Zhang Yixing, looked up to for his very existence. Zhu Zhengting is the leader, a self-made powerhouse and a force of charismatic presence amongst the trainees. It’s natural that there would be some kind of uneasiness one would have with the other, but Zhangjing suspects that there might be something more. 

“Hey, let’s go grab some lunch.” He walks up to Lin Chaoze, who is showing Zheng Ruibin a technique. Like Zhangjing, Ruibin is a siren; perhaps that’s why they were such quick friends when they first met. “How can we practice when we’re hungry?” 

“You Zhangjing, you’re always hungry,” Lin Chaoze quips back at him. “But I’m down.” 

The three of them bid goodbye to their fellow A-rankers. Zhengting and Junyi return the goodbye with enthusiasm, Yixuan looks up from tying his shoelaces with a thumbs up, and Xukun acknowledges them with a brief nod. 

There’s been plenty of talk about the dragonling in the past few days. After his abrupt departure from training two days ago, there have been all sorts of rumours flying around. There was a strange ice trail cutting across the courtyard between the training and dormitory buildings, where the thin layer of snow had melted and refrozen quickly. Someone else spotted Zhang Yixing himself entering the dorms with Zhou Rui behind him, and Zhou Rui is Cai Xukun’s roommate. Zhangjing doesn’t know what to make of this information, but the other trainees have an abundance of wild ideas, none of which really do the dragonling any favours. 

_There will always be talk about people like him, good or bad,_ Zhangjing remembers Lin Yanjun saying, a couple nights ago. _We’re better off just focusing on ourselves._

It’s cold outside. Zhangjing, Chaoze, and Ruibin shuffle across the courtyard quickly, their hands tucked inside sleeves and pockets. It’s a lot colder than Zhangjing is used to, having only lived in tropical Malaysia and temperate Shanghai. He likes it better here, though—the people here are nicer than those he’s accustomed to being around. The Dachang staff give him water and snacks after practice, and his fellow trainees are generally a likable bunch, and no one seems to be giving the fact that he’s siren any mind. No one asks if that’s _celestial, generative, or cathartic siren_. 

Celestial sirens, with dominion over the air, are tolerated. Generative sirens, with dominion over the waters, are feared. But gods forbid you’re a cathartic siren, with dominion over the earth—you’re cursed. And guess which one Zhangjing is. 

They stop by the convenience store first. It’s restocked every day, but it’s still impressive how quickly a hundred kids could deplete the place. Zhangjing grabs a couple of things to replenish his stores in the dorm, mindful of how much his wallet can take. 

The cafeteria is still relatively quiet when they arrive, most likely because the A-class was released for break earlier. He gets his food and sits down with Lin Chaoze and Zheng Ruibin at the longest central table, which has now been reserved for Trainee18 (and whoever else is joining them that day) by general consensus—there’s nine of them, after all. 

“We’re lucky today,” Chaoze comments. Zhangjing agrees. The protein in the meal is braised pork—a crowd favourite. “If the rest of them don’t hurry up it’s all going to be gone.” 

“We could save them some,” Ruibin suggests. He’s met with snorts. 

“As if,” says Zhangjing. “If they’re late, that’s on them. I’m not sharing with anyone.” 

Luckily for the others, they were not so late. The C-class are the first to trickle in, so they’re joined by Qiu Zhixie, Lu Dinghao, Jiang Jingzuo. Then it's B, and Bei Honglin takes his place at the table. Fs, bringing Li Ruotian, follow, surprisingly, as they are usually always the last to break for lunch. The D-class is last today, and finally they are joined by their last two members—Gao Maotong and Lin Yanjun. 

Yanjun slides into a seat near the end of the table. Zhangjing, being near the middle, wishes that there is less distance—it feels like it’s been a while since he’d last spoken to Lin Yanjun one-on-one, and for something like that to suddenly disappear from his routine throws him off a little bit.

“Do you know how people are getting to know their rankings?” Zheng Ruibin asks, lowering his voice. Trainee18 is well acquainted with him now, as he’s been coming around more often since Chaoze and Zhangjing met him in the A-class. “Did they ask the staff?” 

“Some people have phones with them, still,” Li Ruotian answers. “This guy in my class, Huang Xinchun, was it? From Yuehua. He says that one of them has a phone. So does the tall dude from Qin’s.” 

Gao Maotong snorts. “All the guys from Qin’s are tall.” 

“The one who looks like he can kill you just by standing next to you and breathing.” 

Lu Dinghao snickers. “So, all of them but Ling Chao.”

There’s a round of laughs at the table that Zhangjing joins in, but to be honest, he is much more intrigued by the fact that they could know their rankings. “Who is the one from Yuehua with the phone?” he asks Ruotian. 

“Bi Wenjun? I think that’s his name.” 

Zhangjing remembers him. Tall, handsome, didn’t do too well in the first evaluations. “Yanjun, he’s in your class, isn’t he?” 

Lin Yanjun, previously in thought, seems a little startled to be pulled into the conversation. “Yeah, he is. He’s over there right now, wanna go ask him?” 

“Let’s.” Zhangjing stands up from his spot at the table and beckons to Yanjun to do the same. “Lu Dinghao, don’t you dare touch my food while I’m gone.” 

The two of them head over to Yuehua’s table amidst calls of _bring us back the intel!_ The seven trainees are all together, their sweaters a rainbow of different colours, laughing like kids. 

“Hi, You Zhangjing!” Zhu Zhengting greets them when he sees them. “Who’s this?” 

“I’m Lin Yanjun.” Yanjun waves. “Nice to meet you.” 

Zhengting gives him a blinding smile. “What’s up, you guys?” 

Zhangjing leans in closer to the table and lowers his voice. “I heard through the grapevine that you guys know all our rankings.” 

“That would be him,” says the boy sitting next to Zhengting. Zhangjing recognizes him—it’s Justin Huang. He had gotten an A in the first evaluation. “Wenjun, do you have the list on you?”

“Yeah, hang on,” says Wenjun. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper ripped from a training journal. “I wrote them all down because people kept asking and I didn’t want to risk carrying the phone with me.” 

Zhangjing takes the paper and huddles over it with Yanjun, looking for their names. 

“I see yours,” Yanjun says, pointing to the middle of the page. “Right there.” 

Zhangjing follows his finger. When he sees the number, he sucks in a breath. “Yikes.” 

“This is only after the first episode, right?” Yanjun asks the Yuehua boys. 

Wenjun nods. “They’re airing the second episode the day we’re running the challenge. The challenge will probably be the third episode.” 

They give the paper back to Wenjun, who folds it neatly and sticks it back into his coat pocket. “Thanks,” Zhangjing tells him, and turning to the rest of the Yuehua team, “we’ll see you guys around.” 

_Sixty-eighth._ The number echoes in his head. Sixty-eighth is not what he expected at all—gods, if it didn’t shoot way up after the second episode airs, You Zhangjing will not be making it past the first round of eliminations. He tries his best to have faith, though—the audience just hasn’t seen him yet. He’s in the A-class, now. He will be seen. 

As they walk back to their own table, Lin Yanjun’s expression is unreadable. He is thirty-sixth—significantly safer. 

“What are you thinking?” Zhangjing asks.

He shakes his head. “Nothing really.” 

Zhangjing purses his lips. Yanjun has been like that, lately—a bit distracted, something always on his mind. The good news of his ranking seems to have done nothing for that. “Lin Yanjun, are you alright?” 

“Yeah.” 

Back at their table, the others ask for their rankings enthusiastically. Zhangjing recites them from memory amidst sighs of relief and groans of disappointment. Between that, he shoots glances at the far end of the table, wondering just what could be wrong. 

* * *

Zhang Yixing would be lying if he says that he doesn’t see a bit of himself in Cai Xukun. Desperate, driven, and a bit too powerful for his own good. 

Dragonlings are said to be the descendants of manifestations of the mythical Dragon King; it is this blood, supposedly, that gives them powers beyond those of regular humans or other supernaturals. 

It is also common belief that the Dragon King, once roaming the earth, now resides at the heart of the Frontier, the origins of the magic in their world. And that is why Cai Xukun is at Dachang. 

_Three lineages_ , Yixing thinks. 

Lineages are the five manifestations of the Dragon King from which all dragonlings can trace their origins. Fire, water, earth, thunder, wind. One lineage is the norm. Two lineages is rare, and often dangerous. Three is practically unheard of and, by all expert accounts, should be fatal. 

Yixing has two, and the fire and water clashed within him for years. For a time, like Cai Xukun, he too thought that the Frontier might be the only place left to discover how to regain control over his abilities, but then a mixture of age and the coming of crushed pangolin scale tempered the storm.

If Cai Xukun's condition is at such a point, even with the best medicine money could buy, what would become of him? 

He thinks back to the bitter smile playing on the boy's lips as he left him. Xukun knows as well as he does, then. His powers would spiral out of control and consume him, and maybe others in the process. He would die if he couldn't find a way to rein them in and, exhausting all his resources, his last hope is in the mysteries of the Frontier. 

"Cheng Xiao." He knocks on the door to the combat evaluator's rooms. The six of them have been given an area of Dachang to live in throughout the duration of the programme, private and hidden away from the contestants. "Do you have a minute?" 

"Coming," is the answer. He hears her walk up to the door and unlock it. "What's up?" 

"I need to ask you a favour," he says. "Can you make me something for DLI, stronger than pangolin?" 

The potioneer looks a little startled. "Why, are you having trouble managing? I thought you didn't have this problem anymore." 

"It isn't for me."

She catches on quickly. "It's for Cai Xukun." He nods. "But stronger than pangolin? Is it that bad for him?" 

Yixing sighs. "We need to keep this private, none of the trainees can know—Cai Xukun has three lineages."

Cheng Xiao sucks in a breath. "You've got to be kidding me. How is he alive?" 

"I don't know." 

"How did you find out about this?"

"His roommate told me he left training early and came back to the dorm a mess." He remembers Zhou Rui coming to him, nursing a black eye and out of breath, telling him that _Cai Xukun is not looking good at all, I think he needs some help._ "I thought this was it." 

"I'll see what I can do," Cheng Xiao promises. "Do you have a sample of your medication I can base it off of? I've never made stuff for DLI before." 

"Yeah." He pulls out the drawstring pouch in his pocket. "If you can make it even just a little stronger than this, it should be enough for a while." 

She takes the bag from him and reaches into it to pull out a round black pill. A pale purple flame ignites on her fingertips. In a matter of seconds, the pill is nothing but ash, and she rubs the powder between her thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. 

"I think I can work something out," she says. "I'll just need the right ingredients to experiment with." 

"Like?" 

She smiles playfully. "Jieqiong's tail."   
  



	6. competitor (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> competitor—lin yanjun  
> you're my competitor

It’s rare that you can see the stars so close to Beijing, but Cai Xukun thinks he can glimpse a few through the gaps in the clouds. He’s standing in the fourth floor window, which he has flung wide open at the night. Most of the fourth floor isn’t monitored by any video equipment, as he and the other trainees have been quick to learn; the broom closet affords the most privacy, and the window is the best way to get fresh air after curfew. 

In Xukun’s case, it’s _long_ after curfew. They’re not required to go to sleep or turn the lights out, but the lack of air after midnight doesn’t suit the habits he’s developed. So, standing with his hands braced on the windowsill, he drinks in the wind greedily. It’s so cold that it hurts going down his throat, but it’s still a far better alternative to the stuffy dryness of the dorms. 

The dorms. Where Zhou Rui and Qian Zhenghao and Qin Zimo are right now, at 3 am, sleeping or maybe not. No one sleeps all that much here, he’s noted; some practice until dawn, like Zhou Yanchen from Gramarie. Others he’s come across on his trips up here when he hears muffled sobs coming from the broom closet. Sympathy had gripped him one of those times, and that was when he met Zuo Ye. 

Zuo Ye is a trainee from his roommate Qin Zimo’s organization, OACA. At seventeen, he’s one of the youngest at Dachang and, Xukun soon discovers, his biggest admirer. 

He still isn’t sure what exactly to make of that—him, a role model? While it’s reasonable that he may have caught a younger Zuo Ye’s eye during his days with SWIN (he’d caught everyone’s eyes, then), but he never expected that kind of treatment to extend to _NINE_. For the most part, his expectations have been accurate—there has never been a shortage of disdain since his arrival at Dachang a little over a week ago. He sees it in expressions and hears it in the halls. 

There have been others, though; others that he find oddly endearing as he wonders maybe that part of himself isn’t dead, after all. Zhou Rui is now one of them—the siren swore on his life that he had told no one save the commander about his predicament, and from the lack of rumours it seems that it’s true. 

_Why?_ Xukun had asked. _What do you stand to gain by keeping it a secret?_

 _Nothing. I’m not telling anyone because I’m not an asshole,_ said Zhou Rui. _Quit it, I’m not gonna blackmail you._

So Xukun tentatively places Zhou Rui onto a short list of people he can trust not to refrain from knifing him in the back. There are three others on that list at present: Zuo Ye, Wang Ziyi, and Qian Zhenghao. 

Qian Zhenghao is the first person Xukun met upon coming to Dachang. The imp boy is quite possibly the most innocent person he’s ever met in his life, much less in this field, and that alone makes him lower his guard more than he should. But Zhenghao is persistent in his conversations, and Xukun ended up deciding that it would not hurt to return Zhenghao’s efforts where it’s due. 

And then, there’s Wang Ziyi, who is one of two people who truly intrigue him. A vampire, wealthy, powerful, privileged. That almost never equates to friendly, easy-going, kind, or down-to-earth, yet Wang Ziyi is all of those things and more. Cai Xukun hadn’t known how to react when Ziyi first approached him, but he has since discovered that he could talk to him as easily as he could his old friends. Perhaps by now, he’s already said too much. 

The other person who intrigues him is Zhu Zhengting, from Yuehua Research. Zhu Zhengting, who hasn’t so much as acknowledged him since the Simulacrum leader was chosen eight hours ago. Maybe it’s because it is Xukun and not Zhengting (by a mere two votes) or any of the others, and reasonably Xukun should be wary of him, but instead he is intrigued. 

Xukun has also been making note of those who might be ones to watch in the future. Zheng Ruibin performed well last night, but his foundations seem lacking. You Zhangjing might possibly be the best navigator he’s ever seen, although so far he hasn’t displayed much of anything else. Lin Chaoze is like a hurricane when he fights, efficient like he’s the definition of the word. And Zhu Zhengting is a part of that list—perfect foundations, lightning-quick reactions and, as the leader of the Yuehua team, a thus far unparalleled shot-calling ability.

 _Hey, are you fighting with Zhu Zhengting?_ Ziyi had asked him, once, over supper at the cafeteria. For once, Ziyi had left his group to come sit with Xukun, who had also been sitting with Qian Zhenghao and Zhou Rui (who too left his regular group) that day. 

_No,_ he replied, puzzled. Zhou Rui and Ziyi had shared a glance, then. 

_Then why does he look at you like he wants to gut you?_ Zhou Rui asked. _Can’t be because he likes you_. 

Xukun had shrugged. _How am I supposed to know? I’ve talked to him once, maybe. To introduce myself._

 _It might be because of the rankings,_ Ziyi suggested. _Yuehua has someone with a phone. Might be he’s not happy that you’re ranked higher._

_Zhu Zhengting, jealous? I don’t know the guy well, but I don’t think he has anything to be jealous about._

“Trainee Cai Xukun.” There is a figure at the end of the corridor, interrupting his thoughts. Xukun would’ve been startled if it were anyone else. “You should be observing curfew.” 

“You should know it’s hard, Commander.” 

A side effect they are both familiar with, Xukun thinks. Zhang Yixing crosses the distance between them quickly. “Fair. I have something for you, although you’ll need to follow me.” 

Xukun steps away from the window and shuts it. “Alright.” 

He follows the commander to the stairwell and they descend all the way to the first floor in silence. At the bottom of the staircase, there is another shorter set of steps that lead to a small door set in the concrete wall—his first assumption would be an electrical room or broom closet, but he’s sure it’s not that if Yixing is bringing him here.

“Don’t tell anyone that you’ve been through this way,” says the commander, unlocking the door. “I think I can trust you with that.” 

“Yes, sir,” he replies. The door swings open and there is a dark corridor behind it. “Where are we going?”

“The evaluators have a living area connected to here,” says Yixing. “We’re not at Dachang all the time, but when we are, we live here.” 

The corridor seems long. Xukun wonders where they are by the time they arrive at an unmarked grey door, which Yixing unlocks with a tap of a keycard. Behind the door is a sparse, modern living room, a sensibly decorated kitchen and dining area, and several short halls that branch off in different directions. 

Yixing chooses the hall to the far right and knocks on the door at the end of it. There are quiet footfalls behind the wood that Xukun can hear, and Cheng Xiao appears as the door swings open. 

“So, you brought him,” she says to Yixing. The commander nods. “Come on in, Trainee Cai Xukun.” 

He complies wordlessly and follows her into the room. It has a small but luxuriously furnished living area connected to what must be a bedroom, and where normally a residence would have a kitchen there’s a large section comprised of countertops and islands and tall shelves, all full of bright potions and jars of ingredients Xukun wouldn’t be able to name to save his life. In the center of it all, he may have expected a large cauldron, but there’s just a low table and two purple velvet sofas.

“Sit,” she tells him. Xukun does and she takes the opposite couch, Yixing standing on the side, observing. “I have something for you.” 

She pulls out a small, stoppered glass flask. The liquid inside is blue and glowing. Xukun takes it curiously. 

“This is medicine for you,” she explains. “It’s a tad stronger than the pangolin you’ve been taking, so it should help you more.” 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “How do I take this?” 

“Just drink it. This is all I have for now, but it should suppress things for a bit.” She reaches out and grabs his hand. “I want to make something stronger but I think it’ll help if I could have… a bit of you.”

“Blood?” he asks. She nods. He sets the flask down and musters up a razor’s edge of his pure power on his fingertips and slices it across his palm. Instantly, red blooms on his hand. It isn’t as if he hasn’t seen this before, but it is a little bit mesmerizing all the same. 

“Not right now, drama queen,” Cheng Xiao quips, standing up quickly and rushing to her shelves. “You could at least wait for me to get a container.” 

She comes back with a small flask just as the first drop was about to fall on the table. He lets the blood drip until she says she has enough. Then, she gives him a cloth to wrap around the wound, although with the speed of healing he’s accustomed to, the cut will be gone in hours. 

“The new medication will probably brew for a few days,” she says. “But drink this for now and it’ll hold until I get something stronger ready for you.” “Thank you,” he says again. 

He takes the flask, unstoppers it, and tilts the contents back. The liquid is cold and bitter as it goes down his throat, but instantly, it feels as if the energy roiling inside of him has died down from the verge of a storm back to a smooth, calm sea. 

For the first time in weeks. 

* * *

It was just something done for fun before coming to Dachang, in the spur of the moment, but Xiao Gui is finding that the streaks of green he’d dyed his hair is making itself useful. It is one of the few bursts of colour amongst a crowd of one hundred solemn, grey-suited youths, and it might afford him some extra attention in this monotonous sea. 

He takes his position amongst the other B-ranks and lets himself bear silent witness to the anxiousness that chokes the air around them. Zhu Xingjie stands just to his left, fixing his thigh holster casually as if this is just another run-of-the-mill Simulacrum. 

“Do we really have to stand here until it’s our turn?” Xiao Gui asks, groaning. Xiao Gui is 11th in the queue, which by all means isn’t terrible, but he wants something to complain about.

“I mean, at least you’re not waiting for number seventy-three to be called,” Zhou Yanchen scolds him. “Think about Yankai for a second, will you?” 

Zhu Xingjie doesn’t spare him, either. “And you’re better off than us, too. Sixteenth and twenty-third.” 

The system is still terrible, in Xiao Gui’s opinion. Why couldn’t trainees run through the Simulacrum simultaneously in the multiple Studios they have here at Dachang? Wouldn’t that be far more efficient? Except, apparently, between the programme team’s incessant desire to make them suffer and Cai Xukun’s completely unnecessary duties as "leader," they need to all stand in Studio One for six hours, doing nothing for five hours and fifty-seven minutes. 

The first person to perform is, by protocol, Cai Xukun himself. The dragonling, as Xiao Gui has heard through the grapevine, ranks second place, below Chen Linong, the nymph from Taiwan. He wonders what the aired episode must look like for the audience to choose Chen Linong for first place—the boy got an A at the first evaluation, sure, but the re-evaluations proved that he isn’t all that special. 

Cai Xukun finishes the Simulacrum perfectly, navigating a stormy Shore with ease, dispatching a Frontier serpent, and a tiger variety Gatekeeper all within the three-minute time. Xiao Gui notes that he doesn’t even use the powers afforded to him by his dragon lineage—he’s still holding back. 

The trainees clap for him when he’s finished, and one by one, the A-class runs through the Sim. They all perform spectacularly, and Xiao Gui can tell, by the apprehensive murmuring now running through the other ranks, that they are intimidated by the example they’ve been set. He isn’t, though, and judging by how relaxed Zhu Xingjie looks, waiting for their turns, he isn’t, either. 

“Number eleven, Xiao Gui,” Zhang Yixing reads his name off a clipboard after Ding Zeren of Yuehua completes the Sim without err. “It is your turn to complete the Simulacrum. Please load in now.” 

He steps out of his position in the ranks of trainees as Zhou Yanchen cheers for him and Zhu Xingjie claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got it, Linkai.” 

The name he hasn’t used in a while brings a wolfish grin to his face this time, rather than a grimace. “You bet.”

He takes his place in front of the simulator, entering his credentials and loading into the Simulacrum. He chooses his gear quickly, the guns and knives he’s most familiar with, and the Sim commences when the red lines around him solidify into a dark, foreboding landscape. 

Waves from a black, stormy sea crash onto the shore, and overhead, the sky is overcast, as always. _No, something is off_ —the clouds are almost pitch black. A storm may be in store from him like it had been for Cai Xukun. 

He picks up his navigational pace, heading for the Shroud as quickly as he dares. Which is pretty damn quick, because he doesn’t care about rousing any Frontier serpents. He knows full well that he can dispatch those in an instant, “most difficult Simulacrum” or not. 

And he proves it. As he approaches the Shroud, he sees a pile of rocks rumble in his peripheral vision, and even before he draws his firearms the serpent emerges from the hollow under the stones, a ten-foot long thing clad in shiny black scales. It lashes out at Xiao Gui with its jaw unhinged, ready to swallow him whole, but Xiao Gui merely bares his teeth in what might be, as he intends, mistaken as a grin.

He clicks his teeth together. In an instant, he appears behind the Frontier serpent, twin pistols drawn out of their holsters and aimed for the snake’s head. He fires twice in quick succession and the serpent is dead, just like that, and he moves on. 

The storm begins within the final thirty seconds of his Simulacrum, and he makes an effort to fend off the Gatekeepers at the Shroud while enormous raindrops pummel his face and the wind whips his hair all over the place. By the end of the Sim and the storm, though, they’re both dead and Xiao Gui looks at his handiwork with satisfaction as the scene melts away. The puddles turn back into part of a red grid, and his clothes, which should be soaked and dripping, are as dry as they’ve ever been. 

“Thank you, Trainee Xiao Gui,” says Zhang Yixing. There may even be a hint of approval in his voice, Xiao Gui thinks, but he doesn’t let the excitement show. “Next, number twelve—Bei Honglin.” 

He returns to where Xingjie and Yanchen are waiting for him as the applause dies away. “How was that, ge?” 

His teammates look almost like proud parents, although Xiao Gui isn’t too sure if the analogy is accurate, given that he hasn’t _seen_ proud parents before. Privately, though, he likes to think about it, sometimes. What that would be like. 

“Not disappointing,” Xingjie says, grinning. When Xiao Gui gets close enough, he pulls him into a quick hug. “You know, you’ve improved so much these last couple of years.” 

Yanchen gives him a high five after he’s disentangled from Xingjie’s embrace. “Jie-ge’s right. You really aren’t the little imp brat we picked up off the streets anymore, are you?” 

“I wouldn’t be here if I was.” 

Two years ago, Xiao Gui joined the Gramarie Exploration team that had then consisted of only Zhu Xingjie, Zhou Yanchen, and Zhang Yankai. It wasn’t completely his choice, but there are no regrets in sight. This is a far better alternative to the life he had been living before. Sure, there are certain thrills to being on the move constantly, running and hiding and fending for himself, but since getting a taste of stability (and feather-stuffed pillows for the first time) he’s found that it suits him a bit better. 

He watches as the remaining trainees run through the Simulacrum. Some do well, some very well—Zhu Xingjie is among the latter, as usual. Although Xiao Gui would never admit it aloud, Xingjie is a bit of a role-model to him; he is the big brother he’s never had, smart and talented and wickedly humorous.

“That’s our Jie-ge,” Yanchen remarks as the man in question commandeers the Simulacrum with practiced ease. “Oh, look, he’s pulling out the big tricks.” 

“I think you mean little tricks.” Xiao Gui snickers. Zhu Xingjie is a vampire, and turning into bats is a part of their skill set. It just so happens that Xingjie turns into a very small one. 

“Careful, I think he can hear really well in that form,” Yanchen jokes back. Xiao Gui just smiles. The cameras pan to him for a moment, and he looks more than a little bit smug.

* * *

Ziyi is a bit conflicted after he completes the Simulacrum with flying colours. Does he want his performance to be aired for all, including his family, to see? Or does he want it to be just another evaluation in dozens, nothing more than an afterthought? There are obvious benefits and disadvantages to both, and even now, as they move into the next segment of competition, he is unsure what outweighs what. 

All the trainees, their numbers reduced to ninety-seven after a couple were found fighting each other in the halls and another’s unsavoury background dug up, are gathered in one of the smaller filming buildings in Dachang. The room, segregated by class, is full of nervous energy, and in some cases it’s manifesting itself as plants winding across the floor (the nymphs), agitated animal familiars (shapeshifters), and a fire hazard. 

The fire hazard is Cai Xukun. No one is really looking at the dragonling right now, all being engrossed in their own conversations, but Ziyi finds that his attention is almost always on him when they’re in the same room together. Something about Cai Xukun is intriguing in a way no one else is, and that same something tells Ziyi that it has to do with the reason he’s trying to hide the fact that his hands are on fire.

At noon sharp, the Commander of iQiyi’s Frontier Exploration Division, Zhang Yixing, makes yet another powerful entrance. Despite being dressed more casually than he had been the first time the trainees met him, the way he carries himself is still imbued with the force of his presence. 

“Hello everyone,” he greets them. “I trust that you rested well last night?” 

There are some awkward laughs and a few coughs. No one really slept much the night before and Ziyi suspects that Yixing knows—the “we finished our first challenge!” parties were _loud_ , and the big groups like Yuehua and Banana have no problems with allowing outside contestants to join their circles of entertainment. 

“Regardless, we will now be moving into the next stage of the contest,” Yixing says. “Team evaluations. A cohesive group is the one similarity shared by all successful exploration teams, and it is vital that all of you know how to work well with others. We will be assessing how well you perform with a generalized team in an unfamiliar environment.”

He scans his cue cards and calls out a name. “Trainee Cai Xukun.” 

“Yes, sir.” Cai Xukun steps out of the A-class, his hands folded carefully in front of him. Ziyi tries to see if they’re still flaming—they’re not.

“Being the leader of the evaluations yesterday—excellent job, by the way—you now have the exclusive right to select your team members and terrain for the evaluation.” There are gasps from the other trainees, filled with envy and admiration. “We’ll now reveal the eight different types of _Labyrinths_ you may be asked to conquer.” 

The word Labyrinth echoes through the room around him. Ziyi knows as well as anyone else—Frontier Labyrinths are perhaps one of the most revolutionary discoveries made in the past decade, by none other than EXO. Past the Shroud, the entire First Ring is suspected to be a mess of maze-like natural formations, from forested areas to deep, narrow chasms and endless systems of tunnels and caverns. 

“iQiyi has, after months of work, prepared the most accurate renderings of the Labyrinths to date,” Yixing continues. “You will be asked to navigate them against another team; whichever team reaches the centre first will be the victor and receive the benefits of full footage of their performance aired, as well as their training time and bonus screen time. Only the performance of the losing team will be aired. 

“There are three different types of terrains that a Labyrinth may form in, and they are of the forest variety, cavern variety, and valley variety. And so, you have the following options: F-1, F-2, C-1, C-2, V-1, V-2, S-1, and S-2. They are all further segmented into A and B, so there will be a total of sixteen teams amongst you.

“For those of you wondering what _S_ means, these Labyrinths do include a segment that is still part of the Shroud,” he explains. “Now, Trainee Cai Xukun, you may exercise your right to select a terrain and the teammates that will accompany you.” 

Ziyi watches the dragonling step forward, as per Zhang Yixing’s instructions, and walk towards the sign labelled _V-1_ —Valley. He’s given a microphone by the staff and he scans with trainees with calculating eyes. 

“The first person I want on my team is Wang Ziyi,” he says. Ziyi can’t help but smile, pleased. He has been looking forward to working with Cai Xukun since they day they met.

The other contestants clear a path for him to step out of the crowd and join Xukun. He high-fives him, and the dragonling rewards him with a rare smile. “Thanks for picking me.” 

“Well, I think I’d like to work with you,” Xukun responds frankly. He turns back to the trainees. “I’d also like to pick Zhou Rui for this team.” 

Xukun’s roommate, whom Ziyi has come to know in the past few days, bounds out of the ranks of the B-class trainees with a wide grin. _He’s a good choice_ , Ziyi thinks—Zhou Rui is one of the best navigators at Dachang, without a doubt. Xukun selects Zhou Yanchen of Gramarie next—also smart. From what Ziyi has observed so far, the clairvoyant witch doesn’t just see the future in tea leaves; he’s also one of the deadliest combatants around, trained by none other than Zhang Yixing’s company, SM Research.

Then, the room holds its breath for the final member of the team. 

“Zhu Zhengting.” 

“Wait a second, why are you picking Zhu Zhengting?” Ziyi hears Zhou Rui whisper frantically into Xukun’s ear. “Didn’t we tell you he hates you?”

“He definitely hates you,” Zhou Yanchen adds quietly. “Ding Zeren told me that he talks shit about you all the time.” 

Ziyi wants to give his input, too, especially since Zhu Zhengting is walking towards them with a look of utmost displeasure, but Xukun pays no one any mind. The atmosphere is charged with energy as the leader of Yuehua’s team joins them without a word. 

This team might not be the ideal he thought it was, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i like writing about xukun too much it's just too fun-  
> also i'm actually pretty proud of xiao gui's arc or, rather, what i have in stock for him! fingers crossed i pull it off ~


	7. competitor (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> competitor—lin yanjun  
> we've met our match.

The atmosphere in the training room is not something Zhu Zhengting is used to. With his team, he’s like a part of a well-oiled machine; they’ve trained and lived together for long enough that they know each other like they know themselves. They are all jokes and casual encouragement and the occasional motivational quip. 

But here, Zhengting is the odd one out, and it’s all because of the goddamned dragonling, Cai Xukun. 

Who is presently sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, watching as Wang Ziyi and Zhou Yanchen spar with each other. Doing nothing as Zhou Rui runs through drills alone, struggling to keep up with the simulator. The sight gets a rise out of the contempt Zhengting seems to always be carrying of late—the contempt reserved for a very select group of people. Once, it was just his parents and a few old “friends” in that count. Now, it includes Cai Xukun. 

Zhengting tries to stay calm, but the more he looks at the dragonling’s blank face the more confrontational he begins to feel. It’s a multitude of things that have brought him to this point—Cai Xukun’s undeserved A, preferential treatment from Zhang Yixing, popularity that his skill doesn’t quite merit. Zhu Zhengting has never once seen the dragonling display anything extraordinary except maybe his good looks, so why is he constantly put on a pedestal? 

And he isn’t going to pretend that Xukun being chosen as leader doesn’t irk him. The guy has never really worked with a team before; how could he be a good leader? _Oh, right—he’s Cai Xukun._ Whom everyone appears to worship or envy for no good reason. Not even his personality is redeemable—he’s by turns superficial and standoffish and the air of superiority about him is something that Zhengting simply can’t tolerate. 

So he decides it’s time to take the dragonling down a notch and lets it out.

“I don’t care who you think you are, Cai Xukun.” He’s not sure of what’s about to come out of his mouth but he goes with it. “You picked us for your team. So get off your goddamn high horse and help us.” 

Cai Xukun gives him an utterly unreadable look (which exacerbates his frustrations, since Zhengting has always seen right through people) from his seat and stands up wordlessly. He picks up a pair of sparring pads and approaches Zhou Rui, offering partnership. Zhengting watches him like a hawk until he feels a tap on his shoulder. 

It’s Wang Ziyi. He’s stopped sparring with Zhou Yanchen, who is now rummaging in his coat pockets for snacks. “Hey. I’m going to get some water. Wanna come with me?” 

Zhengting wants to refuse, to keep an eye on Xukun and make sure he’s doing what he should be, but one glance from Ziyi convinces him otherwise. So he follows him out of the room and down the hall to the fountains. 

“Zhengting, I know you mean well,” Ziyi starts. “But we’re a team. You shouldn’t talk to Xukun that way. We don’t want any conflict.” 

Zhengting resists the urge for his lip to curl in the disdain he has for people like Cai Xukun and Wang Ziyi, people who have everything handed to them and take it for granted. He resists with everything he has, because from what he can tell, Wang Ziyi is actually an outlier for his species and quite well-liked by the other trainees. Justin tells him he’s easy-going, modest, and even kind. 

“You’re right.” He forces the words out. “I’ll talk to him in private to sort things out.” 

Ziyi screws on the caps of the two water bottles he’s filled. “You don’t necessarily have to do that,” he says. “I’ve gotten to know Xukun some since coming to Dachang and I can tell you about him.” 

“Tell me, then.” _What is he but another one of_ them?

“For starters, he doesn’t think he’s better than everyone else,” Ziyi says, beginning the walk back to the training room. Except he takes a left, and heads up the stairs. Zhengting understands that they’re going to the fourth floor and follows. “If you think he’s too proud to talk to you, that isn’t it. He’s just shy. He hasn’t had many chances to meet people in the past couple of years.”

“If he’s shy, why did he pick me for this team?” Zhengting presses. “What’s the point in that?” 

Ziyi shrugs. “He thinks you’re a good match for the challenge. You’re strong, you know. Anyone with a brain would want you on their team, and contrary to what you think, Xukun wouldn’t choose you if he hated you. Wouldn’t that be torture to him, too?”

“Maybe he can start acting like it.” 

Ziyi only sighs. “This is how he is with everyone, Zhengting. Give him some time, or be the one to approach him. That’s what I did, and it changed things—I promise.” 

“And why should I do that?” It isn’t like disciplined Zhengting to be so confrontational, even after the conversation could have concluded, but he can’t seem to help it today. Maybe it’s the stress, maybe it’s the _years_ of pent-up frustrations talking. He just can’t stop himself. 

“Because we’re a team,” Ziyi repeats, more firmly this time. “And we have to start acting like one if we want to do well in this challenge.” 

He pauses, as if drafting his next words. 

“Besides, I think you’ll like Xukun if you actually get to know him.” 

* * *

The week is up, but Justin Huang is feeling as ready as he’ll ever be. In fact, he’s even a little bit giddy with the excitement—while Wenjun’s phone had been confiscated after it was discovered, he heard through the grapevine that he’s ranked fourth place. For as long as he can remember, all he’s ever wanted is to see the Frontier, to be like EXO and GOT7 and the exploration teams that paved the way. If he gives the audience and evaluators a good show today, then the idea of exploring the Frontier really will be more than a dream. 

Only one thing mars his perfect reality, though—Fan Chengcheng. While thinking like that makes him feel a little guilty, he privately asserts that the only unpleasant thing left in his life is the fact that his best friend is gone, replaced by a stranger that has none of Chengcheng’s cheek and humour. 

Justin had thought that it was just stress, and that it would get better as he adapts to their new environment. However, it’s been almost an entire month since they’ve come to Dachang, and even the promises of a hard-earned break and Chinese New Year’s dumplings seem to make no dent on Chengcheng’s anxieties. He’s asked, on multiple occasions, if any of the trainees are making his life difficult, if he’s seen something hurtful online, if anything at all has happened to him—he’s always met with no response. 

At least, today seems to be a better day than others. Justin is grateful that Chengcheng still has ‘good days.’ It means that things can still get better, if he keeps trying. 

Today, Chengcheng’s usually lax posture is ramrod straight, and there is a glint in his eyes that Justin doesn’t see often. He is ready to take on the challenge, it means—and nothing is going to stop him from winning.

“How’s everyone feeling about things?” You Zhangjing of Banana Research, their oldest member, asks the team. Justin is quite proud of the choices he helped Lu Chenyu make—their team has some of the strongest navigators at Dachang, coupled with more than adequate combat and tactical abilities. 

“We’ve prepared plenty and we’re going to do great,” Lin Chaoze says. He’s another one of Justin’s choices—like You Zhangjing, he’s from Trainee18 and is an amazing combatant if Justin’s ever seen one. _He could give Zhengting a run for his money_.

“That’s the spirit,” Zheng Ruibin agrees. He’s also a siren, and his navigational skills seem to be unparalleled by anyone outside of their little group. The others on their team—Lu Chenyu and Deng Langyi from Mavericks, nod earnestly. Their skills are not quite so polished, but they’ll be enough. Lu Chenyu is an excellent shot and Deng Langyi is more than handy with a knife.

“Right, Chengcheng?” Justin nudges him. Chengcheng, for once, responds with a smile more characteristic than most of late. 

“Yup. We’re going to kick ass.” 

They fall into a silence that’s more or less comfortable. It’s only broken when a woman’s voice calls, “C-2, Team B.”

“Time to move out,” says Lin Chaoze. They move into the adjacent chamber in a single-file line, and what they see takes their breath away. 

“ _This_ is the Labyrinth?” Justin hears Deng Langyi ask incredulously. Indeed—they find themselves at the mouth of an enormous cavern, as they have been promised, but it’s dark and bottomless and utterly foreboding. Not quite like the small renditions they’ve been running through on the simulators.

“Looks like it.” Justin glances at the staff nearby. “When do we start?” 

A woman looks up for her clipboard and points to a timer that hangs in the overhead gloom. “In a minute the buzzer will go off and you can go.” The clock reads _0:55_ and is counting down steadily.

“How did they build something like this in time?” You Zhangjing wonders.

“It’s only the structure.” Justin remembers what the evaluators told them. “Everything inside the cave is simulated.”

The six of them peer down into the darkness. They can’t see much at all beyond the mouth of the cavern, and Justin is willing to bet that finding a safe way down won’t be easy.

A loud buzzing cuts through the anxious silence their group has fallen into. “That’s our signal,” says Zheng Ruibin. “Time to go.” 

The siren steps out first, ready to scope a way down with his abilities, but someone beats him to it. 

Chengcheng snaps his fingers and a sphere of blue fire blooms on his palm. This is the first time any of them, save Justin, has seen him use his abilities since he came to Dachang, so the others watch, slack-jawed, as he flings the fire down the cave to illuminate their path. It splits into smaller flames along the way, and they hang like lanterns of foxfire in the air. 

“You’re not a human?” Lu Chenyu looks at him with wide eyes. “What’s this?” 

“Just a trick.” Chengcheng shrugs. He meets Justin’s concerned glance—Chengcheng has always detested using his abilities, as they’re the reason he’s so loathed by the people in his hometown, so the fact that he would use them on television? It would have been unthinkable, until now. Besides, as far as Justin’s concerned, he hardly knew how to use them before, but clearly he hasn’t been slacking. He wonders what else Fan Chengcheng has kept from him these past few weeks. “Let’s go. Zhangjing, Ruibin, how do you think we should get down?” 

“Hang on, we’re scoping it out,” says You Zhangjing. 

Unlike the two from Mavericks, he doesn’t seem as incredulous at Chengcheng’s revelation of abilities—perhaps, Justin suspects, he’s already had his doubts. Sirens are very acutely perceptive, and Justin’s heard that You Zhangjing isn’t just any siren. He’s a _cathartic_ siren—the most elusive and, perhaps, most dangerous kind. As harmless as the guy looks… well, Justin knows as well as anyone that looks can be deceiving. 

“We’ve got it,” Zheng Ruibin announces. He draws a strange symbol on the stone—siren magic—and a bright gold path traces itself down the jagged rock face. “We can go down from here; we’ll just need to be careful, since it’s extra steep.” 

“I’ll go first so someone can catch you if you fall,” Justin says. Before anyone can say otherwise, he leaps into the mouth of the cave and lets himself free fall until he nears the floor of the cave, illuminated by the fire. He catches himself with his abilities just before he hits the ground, slowing his fall to a gentle landing. 

“Why can’t you do that for all of us?” Deng Langyi shouts down from above.

Justin waves up at them. “Sorry, my abilities only work on myself and inanimates. Other living things have inherent psychic resistance.” 

“‘Inherent psychic resistance.’ Getting technical on us, are you?” He can almost see Chengcheng roll his eyes from down there, and Justin decides to imagine that he must have. “Well, wait there, we’re coming.” 

“At least you won’t have to wait for me.” Chaoze’s voice comes from behind him. Justin jumps before remembering that imps can travel near instantaneously over short distances. 

Justin looks up at his other teammates. Chenyu and Langyi scale the wall expertly—they’ve had practice at Mavericks, it appears. They’re even faster with Zhangjing’s help. A few muttered words in a language foreign to all but sirens enhances their entire group’s speed and dexterity. 

Justin is even prouder of his choices, now. Sirens are excellent supports for a team—he knows that from working with Wenjun, who’s half. They can augment team performance with spells unique to their lineage, and navigate like no one else with the affinity they have towards their spheres of influence. The sirens are excellent combatants, too, so there really is nothing lost. 

“I wonder how the other team is doing,” says Ruibin as they head deeper into the cave system, their path lit by Chengcheng’s foxfire, which no one, reading the air, questions any further. 

“Hopefully not well,” Justin supplies, before realizing that isn’t exactly the most prudent thing to say on camera—he doesn’t want to be seen that way. “I mean, just slower than us.” 

“Fair,” Zhangjing says. He’s taken the lead in their party, while Justin brings up the rear, as they have been practicing for the past couple of days. “We’re coming up on a crossroads, so keep your guard up.” 

Chenyu draws his pistols from his thigh holsters. “Are there any Frontier beasts?” 

“Not that I can sense yet,” says Ruibin. “But probably soon.” 

The promised fork in their path arrives. “Where do we go?” Justin asks Zhangjing. 

The siren bends down and presses his fingers to the stone, sensing. “Directionally, this path leads more quickly to the centre.” He points to the right. “But there are several wider parts in the path that suggest that there would be spaces for confrontations, and also some very steep portions. The other path is essentially flat, from what I can tell, but it winds more times than I can count.” 

“Let’s go straight,” says Chengcheng abruptly. Everyone looks at him. “I think we can take on whatever’s down there.” 

The team is silent for a moment. Chaoze breaks it. “Well, why the hell not?” 

Chengcheng’s foxfire zip ahead of them and farther down into the Labyrinth. In the dim blue light, Justin can see the sweat that’s beading on the back of his neck—it must take a lot for him to use the powers he’s so unaccustomed to, so why is he forcing himself? 

He gently tugs Chengcheng back a little by the sleeve, slowing him down so that they are parallel. No one else in their team notices. 

“Are you okay?” Justin whispers close to Chengcheng’s face. He’s expressionless but for his eyes, which are wide with what Justin thinks might be anxiousness. “Talk to me.” 

“I’m fine.” Chengcheng pulls his arm out of Justin’s grasp. “Justin, please let me do this.” 

“I’m not stopping you. Just be careful.” Justin falls back into his position. 

The next thirty seconds seem to shape up as uneventful when a loud roar tears through the tunnel, almost deafening. The entire cave seems to rumble with it, and Justin claps his hands over his ears instinctively. 

“What the fuck is that?” Ruibin yells.

“A Frontier beast has to have spawned,” says Justin. His words haven’t even trailed off completely when something appears out of the gloom in front of them, a large claw stomping out a ball of foxfire like it’s nothing. 

Then, a pair of red eyes appear in the darkness. 

“Duck!” You Zhangjing orders them. A siren’s voice compels, Justin knows, and his body seems to almost move on its own accord as he falls to all fours and presses his stomach to the ground. A second later, something large swoops over where their group once stood and lands behind them, letting out another ear-splitting cry. 

Justin scrambles to his feet and turns around. He flicks on the flashlight he keeps at his belt and shines it in the direction of the beast. 

“Gods,” he breathes. “It’s a wyvern.” 

“A wyvern?” Deng Langyi is whipping out his weapons. “What’s that?” 

The existence of wyverns in the Frontier isn’t exactly well-known, and Justin only knows because of the very extensive (and possibly illegal) databases that Yuehua Research maintains. The only times wyverns have been studied are during the Exodus three years ago and on one of the pioneering expeditions in recent times, by a Korean team called TVXQ, and the information has been closely guarded by the company responsible for both teams, SM Research. 

“They’re kind of like dragons but smaller and vicious instead of fond of bestowing lucky people with powers,” says Justin. “They’re very rare outside of the First Ring, from what we know.” 

The wyvern roars again, spreading thin wings in the narrow space. Justin glimpses a barbed tail behind the beast, swishing back and forth and cleaving stone off the walls.

“If they’re so rare, how did they get a render?” You Zhangjing shouts over the noise. 

“I don’t know.” Justin pulls out his own gun. “We just have to beat it up.” 

Before, Justin was in the rear of the group, but he’s now in the lead, closest to the wyvern, who seems to be readying itself for some kind of attack. Justin wonders what it could be before feeling the air around them get _hot_. 

“Get to the sides!” he yells at his teammates. They all press themselves to the walls of the tunnel while Justin raises up a shield of energy in front of him, just before the fireball would have burned him to ashes. “Are the organizers trying to kill us?” 

Chengcheng swears under his breath. “Kill us, or close to it. How do we beat this thing?” 

“No idea,” Justin replies. “Let’s just go for it. Watch out for the tail.” 

He fires his gun at the wyvern three times in quick succession. In tight space, there isn’t much for the beast in the ways of avoiding, so it gets hit by the blasts and screeches in anger and pain. Justin motions to his teammates, and they take advantage of the creature’s distraction to fire more testing shots, looking for weak points in its scales.

“It has to be like a serpentine Gatekeeper,” says Zheng Ruibin. “Attacking its scales are useless. We have to go for the face.” 

“Roger that.” Deng Langyi takes several shots at the wyvern’s face, but it swerves from side to side. Suddenly, without warning, it turns its entire body in the narrow tunnel, its tail causing more stone to fall from the sides and ceiling of the cavern.

“Watch out!” Justin calls, rather uselessly. He hears grunt of pain somewhere behind him, and You Zhangjing’s frustrated profanities. “I’ll immobilize it, and you guys go in for the kill.”

“You got it, Justin,” Zhangjing replies. He says something else that Justin can’t understand, before he feels something warm bloom inside him and new energy surge through his limbs. “Everyone has a strength and precision buff, now.” 

There’s a quick round of _thanks, Zhangjing_ s and Justin quickly gets to work. He focuses hard on rock walls of the caves and thrusts out his hands at them; after a brief moment, the stone breaks off in chunks and begins piling itself in front and around the wyvern as if building a cairn, a particularly large piece crashing down on its tail. 

“Now!” 

Chengcheng is the one to take the lead on the offensive, climbing up the rock pile and avoiding angry bursts of flame with surprising agility. He fires several shots at the wyvern’s face as he goes, some bouncing off its scales but another catching it in the eye. The pain allows it to break free of some of the rocks restraining it, but Lu Chenyu and Lin Chaoze quickly hold its tail back down by pushing the pile back over it. 

Fan Chengcheng has reached the top, now, and level with the wyvern’s head, he pauses for only a moment before a large sphere of blue magic spirals into life on his palm, so bright it’s blinding. He thrusts it in the wyvern’s face and it engulfs it completely. 

_A fox’s orb_. Justin’s never seen a huli jing use that before, much less _Fan Chengcheng_ , who isn’t a huli jing at all. They all watch, awed, as the wyvern’s form dissipates back into the red lines signature of a simulator, and Chengcheng descends the rock mound, looking completely unfazed. But Justin can see his hands shaking. 

“Let’s go,” he says, and they all follow his lead deeper into the Labyrinth. 

The rest of the maze poses little more challenge for them, although a few steep patches take a little more time to navigate than Justin would like. The entire time, he keeps his eyes trained on Chengcheng’s back, wondering if today’s show of power would merit a sit-down discussion once they finished. 

They reach the centre of the Labyrinth soon enough, and Zhang Yixing is waiting there with the other evaluators. The commander claps slowly for them when they all file into a circular stone room, breathing somewhat heavily. 

“Congratulations, Team A,” says Yixing, smiling. “An excellent performance. I’m pleased to announce that you have arrived before Team B, and so you are the victors.”

“Hell yeah, guys!” Justin raises a cheer with the rest of their team, and they exchange some grins and sweaty high fives. Chengcheng, in particular, looks very satisfied. “Thank you, sir.” 

“No need to thank me for anything,” the commander says, amused. “You all performed very well today. You,” he looks at Chengcheng, “surprised me. Well done.”

The other evaluators offer up their own congratulations and they’re ushered through a shortcut out of the maze. Once they’re out of the mentors’ earshot and there are no cameras in sight, Justin sighs in relief. “Good job, everyone! We almost died, but we didn’t!” 

“Thanks to you guys, mostly,” Deng Langyi says, a little bit wistfully. He looks at Chengcheng. “That was impressive.” 

Chengcheng looks a little taken aback. “Thank you.” 

He meets Justin’s eyes. Justin almost opens his mouth, before remembering that, sometimes, the things left unsaid speak loudest of all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zhengkun being rough in the beginning seems to be a given at this point
> 
> also chengcheng's story was honestly one of the hardest parts to write and i had to fall back on using justin's pov to get it across; i promise it gets more interesting later !


	8. competitor (iii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> competitor—lin yanjun  
> i need you.

There is an underlying air of uneasiness as the trainees pile into a large bus, leaving Dachang for the first time in a month, for most of them. It’s because the following morning, thirty-seven of the ninety-seven remaining contestants will be eliminated, and a good number of them know exactly who they are. 

You Zhangjing does his best to brighten the atmosphere. It may be the last hurrah for some of them, and he would hate for the expensive hot pot they’re about to have to be wasted on the sullen mood. This is a hard-earned blessing from the evaluators, and he’s determined to enjoy it with the rest of them. 

“Cheer up,” he tells Gao Maotong, who has for the past few days been stressing out over his likely imminent elimination, as they board the bus. He discreetly forces a bit of his powers into his voice, hoping it would influence Maotong’s mood. “We’re about to have some of the best hot pot this world has to offer.” 

“You’re right, Zhangjing-ge,” says the dryad, with a tight smile. “Even if I get eliminated, at least I can say that I’ve had Haidilao.” 

“Right! That’s the spirit.”

Zhangjing and Yanjun climb into a pair of seats near the middle of the bus, Yanjun at the window and Zhangjing on the outside. Yanjun has been a little bit quiet and out of sorts recently, but he isn’t sure why. It could be the unfortunate outcomes of his group evaluation—he essentially carried his team through the Labyrinth, yet his efforts were not enough and they still lost. But Zhangjing thinks it’s more than that. Yanjun never stays upset at these things for long. 

“Hey, Lin Yanjun,” Zhangjing says gently, “what’s on your mind?” 

Normally, Yanjun would be so forthcoming, but recently he just shakes his head and says it’s nothing. Today is no exception. 

“Sorry,” he adds. “I’m pretty tired. I’ll take a nap, if that’s okay.” 

If Zhangjing looks closely, the circles under Yanjun’s eyes have become darker and more pronounced lately, so he lets Yanjun close his eyes with his hood pulled up and head against the window, promising to wake him up when they reach the restaurant. But after a quick conversation with Chen Linong and another with Zheng Ruibin, he looks back at Yanjun and knows he isn’t asleep. 

Unsure of what possesses him, Zhangjing reaches over Yanjun’s lap and takes one of his hands in his own, feeling the familiar warmth against his skin and calluses rubbing against one another. Yanjun gives no obvious response, but he feels fingers tightening around his own in a silent plea for support. Zhangjing obliges, squeezing back. 

For the rest of the ride, he looks around to make sure that no other trainees are paying them any mind, and that his sleeve covers their linked hands so that there is still room for doubt. 

At the restaurant, Yanjun’s mood seems to have improved considerably and, with it, Zhangjing’s. The rest of the night passes in a blur, between the food and the partying and the fact that Lu Dinghao manages to get halfway to drunk even though they aren’t allowed any alcohol. Other tables don’t fare any better than them in the sanity department—he sees Ding Zeren and Huang Xinchun of Yuehua climbing tables fighting over what looks to be a five dollar bill and the CNK team cleaning up a pot overturned because of an arm wrestling match between Lou Zibo and Li Rang.

When they return to Dachang, it is well past midnight, but everyone is full and satisfied. It’s the best meal Zhangjing has had in months and, for once, no one talks about the eliminations before going to bed. 

In the morning, they assemble in the Amphitheatre amidst nervous murmurs, the high from last night all but gone. They all notice the same thing—the chairs in the stands dubbed the Pyramid, once numbered one through one hundred, have dwindled in number to only sixty. They’re ushered into smaller risers and made to sit by team as they wait for Zhang Yixing’s arrival. 

“I’m going to eliminated, aren’t I?” Bei Honglin keeps asking. “Tell me, You Zhangjing, you saw the rankings.” 

“Not recently,” he lies. The truth is, he talked to Bu Fan (as Bi Wenjun's phone was discovered and confiscated) a couple days ago and not every member of Trainee18 was safe then, and probably not every member will be safe now. “But you’re still safe, Bei Bei.” 

“What about me?” asks Gao Maotong. “I can’t be.” 

“Things could have changed between now and then; we’ll never know until the rankings,” he says firmly. Other members, such as Qiu Zhixie and Jiang Jingzuo, are more acceptant.

“It’s okay if we’re eliminated this round,” says Zhixie. “This won’t be our last chance.”

Zhangjing doesn’t know what else to say. 

The eliminations seem to breeze by, much like last night’s dinner. Zhangjing just sits with sweaty palms as they call name after name. Trainee18 starts in thirty-seventh with Bei Honglin. Then, Lu Dinghao, Lin Yanjun, Lin Chaoze, and himself—You Zhangjing is walking up to take the tenth place seat. Only one away from a spot in Team 9. 

The audience saw him. The evaluators saw him. _Thank the gods._

But there is no Gao Maotong or Qiu Zhixie or Li Ruotian, who rank near the very bottom. There is no Jiang Jingzuo, who just misses the mark at sixty-first. 

After Cai Xukun is announced in first, unsurprisingly, they are dismissed to say their farewells to each other.

Maotong is crying a river. Zhixie is trying hard to keep it back. Ruotian is furiously wiping his eyes. (It’s a losing battle for both of them.) Jingzuo wears a bitter smile as he tells them to work hard for their sakes. 

Honglin sobs back as he hugs them tight. Dinghao is teary-eyed, and Chaoze full of gentle encouragement. Zhangjing follows Chaoze’s lead and tries to stay strong for them. And Yanjun is missing. 

“Where’s Yanjun-ge?” Maotong asks, through hiccups. Zhangjing looks around for him but can’t see him through the crowd of trainees busy with goodbyes. “He should be here.” 

“I’ll look for him,” Zhangjing says. There are tears in his own eyes that he wipes away after detaching himself from Zhixie’s embrace. “He must have gotten stuck in the crowd. Or maybe one of his roommates got eliminated and he ran into them.” 

He weaves through the other contestants, muttering Lin Yanjun’s name under his breath like a prayer. Finally, he sees him just behind the stands where they sat earlier, and he is alone. 

_That’s why._

The Lin Yanjun Trainee18 is accustomed to never cries. He’s full of sentimental bullshit that he likes spouting at random moments, like when they see a particularly fat cloud or a nice sunset, but he never cries. 

Zhangjing stands frozen, unsure what to do. Because Lin Yanjun is crying, and it’s _ugly._ Lin Yanjun, who normally looks perfect rolling out of bed, is an utter mess, face twisted in a way that, for his standards, is impossibly unattractive. 

“You Zhangjing,” he says. Even his voice is mangled, but it starts smoothing itself out as he takes deeper breaths. “What are you doing here?” 

“Looking for you.” Zhangjing’s voice is small and tentative. “Don’t you want to say goodbye to the others?” 

“Like _this_?” Yanjun asks, with a mirthless laugh. “They can’t see me like this.” 

_And it hurts me to see you like this_. “It’s okay, Lin Yanjun. I’m sure they won’t mind. Everyone’s crying.” 

Yanjun wipes his red-rimmed eyes with his sleeve. “Gods, Zhangjing. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Zhangjing says softly. He approaches Yanjun in the way one might approach a skittish animal. When Yanjun doesn’t run away, he slowly puts his arms around his waist and his head on his chest. They stand like that for a little while, listening to each other breathe as all the other noises in the Amphitheatre fade away. 

_It’s comfortable,_ Zhangjing thinks. _It’s safe._ It’s Lin Yanjun, who, even when fragile, is safe _._

“I’m okay now,” Yanjun finally says, his voice much steadier than before. “Let’s not keep the others waiting.” 

* * *

  
  


It was always a given to him that he would at least make it past the first round of eliminations. Cai Xukun knows his skills, and knows that they are more than enough of a match for most people at Dachang. Nonetheless, he still let out a sigh of relief when he was announced for first place, with a substantial lead on second place Chen Linong.

The evaluations are based on two things—mentors’ picks and popular vote. In the earlier stages of the programme, popular vote is weighted far more heavily. That’s why, he supposes, he finds certain people amongst the temporary Team 9 lineup that he would never have expected. Bu Fan, from Qin’s Research? Never stood out much to him, save for the fact that he’s freakishly tall. The others say that he’s prone to attention-grabbing antics, but Xukun never pays any attention to people who he doesn’t think would be competition, anyway. And He Dongdong, from Hongyi Institute? Never heard of his company, much less him. 

He mills around the other trainees, offering his cursory condolences and congratulations, while accepting the same from others. Everyone in his dorm made it, with Qian Zhenghao in seventeenth, Zhou Rui in twenty-seventh, and Qin Zimo somewhere in the forties. Wang Ziyi is in eleventh, and Xukun searches for him in particular to offer up well wishes. 

“Kun-ge!” he hears a voice call for him, and before he has time to wonder who could refer to him so familiarly, a body barrels into him. “Oh my gods, congratulations!” 

“Whoa, there.” It’s Zuo Ye. He quickly disentangles himself from the boy, a little disgruntled. “No need to be so aggressive.” 

“Sorry,” Zuo Ye says sheepishly. “I’m just so excited.” 

Xukun smiles. The affection is genuine, he finds, although it might take a little getting used to. “You should be. You’re in, what, twenty-second?” 

“Yes!” Zuo Ye is grinning from ear to ear. “Ge, do you think we can be on Team Nine together?”

“If you keep it up,” says Xukun, clapping him on the shoulder. 

“You bet I will.” 

“I’ll be waiting for you, then.” 

They part ways, Zuo Ye running back to his team from OACA. There are five of them, total, and they all made it this round. 

Privately, Xukun has his doubts that Zuo Ye might make it to the end—he has talent and enough grit, but he’s still too green compared to most of the other contestants, even those his own age like navigators Qian Zhenghao and Ling Chao, who both ranked within the top twenty. If he could improve drastically by the next elimination, though, and if luck favours him, he still has a chance. 

He looks around for other familiar faces. Zhou Rui is busy hugging a tall boy Xukun only vaguely recognizes, Ziyi is still busy saying his goodbyes to some of his teammates, and Zhenghao is in conversation with one of the trainees from the Banana Institution, Li Ruotian, is it? 

Xukun thinks it’s time for him to head out of the Amphitheatre. He can give Zhou Rui and Zhenghao his congratulations in the dorms, and Ziyi he’ll see eventually. There are no goodbyes for him, yet.

As he turns, he comes face to face with none other than Zhu Zhengting. 

“Congratulations,” the leader of Yuehua says quickly. “On first place.” 

Xukun narrows his eyes at the change in attitude. After Ziyi had confronted Zhengting a little under a week ago, the latter became more civil towards him, but that did little to mask the air of hostility that still surrounded him. Choosing powerful, charismatic, competitive, _intriguing_ Zhu Zhengting for his team was the worst choice he’s made since coming to Dachang, especially since Zhengting ended up outperforming him in individual evaluation following the challenge. 

“Thank you,” he says warily. “You also did very well.” 

“If we both keep it up, we’ll end up on the same team,” Zhengting continues. _Is this an olive branch?_ Xukun wonders.

“You’re right.” 

The next words out of Zhu Zhengting’s mouth blindside him. 

“I’m sorry for how I treated you, Cai Xukun.”

Xukun blinks, trying not to let the surprise show. He’s never really been good at reading people, so his first instinct is to continue being suspicious, despite the fact that Zhengting looks sincere, albeit highly uncomfortable. _Of course, pride must taste terrible going down_. 

“It was rude of me to assume what kind of a person you are,” Zhengting adds solemnly. “I hope you can accept my apology.” 

“It’s okay,” he says, mostly because it’s the only socially acceptable answer to his statement that he can think of. “There’s no hard feelings. It _is_ a competition, after all.” 

With a nod, he walks away from Zhu Zhengting and out of the Amphitheatre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one was so short! hope you thought zdj crumbs are cute tho hehe 'cause i thought it was fun to write


	9. let the world be destroyed (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let the world be destroyed—yoga lin  
> the light gets dimmer and dimmer.

“Fan Chengcheng, where are you going?” 

Chengcheng doesn’t look in the direction of Zhengting’s voice as he heads out the door, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “Out.” 

“No shit,” Zhengting says. The exasperation in his voice is obvious. “But it’s almost curfew.” 

“I’ll be back before then,” Chengcheng assures him flatly. “I’ll only be ten, fifteen minutes.” 

He hears Zhengting sigh loudly. “Just zip your coat up.” 

He does as he’s told. A good part of him feels guilty for making Zhengting worry about him—their leader already has more than enough on his shoulders without Chengcheng being an emotional burden on them all. He’s already pushed away Justin to the point where he isn’t sure if they can recover their previous friendship; in his absence, he sees Justin and Zhengting grow closer, sees Justin approach other trainees. He sees Justin laugh and smile and he just can’t share in it no matter how hard he tries. 

_ I’m just this fucked up _ . The door to their dorm shuts with a quiet click. Chengcheng shuffles quickly down the corridor and towards the stairwell, as if in doing so he’s escaping. Escaping what, he isn’t sure. The worry of his teammates? The pressures of Dachang that only mount higher each day? Or the poisonous words that keep calling him  _ monster, mistake,  _ and  _ cursed _ ? 

Outside the dorms, the night air hits him in an icy blast. It’s crisp and refreshing, and it works wonders on his mood. He would just take a quick walk around campus, he decides, maybe stop by the convenience store to get some snacks for his teammates; that might put him back in their good graces. 

So he does just that. The convenience store closes at curfew, so the owner looks at him, slightly irritated, as he walks in. Chengcheng gives him a sheepish smile and hopes that the irritation is just due to the lateness of the hour, and has nothing to do with  _ him _ specifically. 

He grabs Justin and Zhengting’s favourite potato chips, and picks up some spicy snacks, which the whole team would be sure to enjoy. He even grabs some Minion-themed candies for Xinchun, and pays for everything without making eye contact. 

With a plastic bag full of treats, he heads back to the dorms. 

Normally, he would take the well-lit paths back to the main buildings of Dachang, but tonight he decides to cut across through a series of smaller spaces between the structures made up the outskirts of the sprawling campus. He and Justin had discovered this path in their first weeks here, and found that it was a good place to play games. They don’t use it anymore, though, not with how much time they spend practicing for the evaluations. 

Being away from the light is like being away from… judgement, Chengcheng thinks. Where no one can see, no one can really say anything. If only he could hide from prying eyes and sharp tongues just a little longer, he might just reemerge the way he wants… 

There’s a rustling sound behind him. Chengcheng casts a cautious glance back just in time to see a dark shape dart behind a wall. His heart instantly jumps up to his throat. He turns back around and picks up his pace; why is he so stupid, to take such a path alone? 

More sounds. Chengcheng considers breaking into a run. He’s in the space between two buildings right now, and there’s a clear-cut path to the dorms if he just gets out of the alley. 

He pushes off on his back foot to sprint, just as a figure rounds the corner ahead and blocks his way. 

“Who’s there?” he asks shakily, skidding to a halt. The figure seems to be a man, whose face is covered, and ignores his question. “Who are you?” 

_ Please be a mentor. Or security _ , Chengcheng prays, but when the man lunges at him with a knife, he knows it’s neither. 

He dodges, reflex kicking in in spite of his fear. His bag full of snacks drops to the ground with a crinkle and the man’s boot crunches the potato chips underfoot.  _ Damn. Those were for Justin _ . 

He takes a swipe at Chengcheng again, who ducks under the blade and jumps to the side. “Please, can we talk?” he asks, between gasps. “Why are you attacking me?” 

The man ignores him once more, instead opting to continue his advance. Chengcheng needs to get out of the alley quick, he realizes, lest he be forced against a wall. 

The stranger lunges forward, the knife aimed straight for his head. Chengcheng drops to his knees and kicks out with one foot, hoping to knock his assailant off his feet. 

It works, except as his attacker falls, he swings the knife wildly. Chengcheng pushes back on his feet as quickly as he can, but not quickly enough—the blade catches him in the calf, cutting through his pant leg and carving a sharp wave of pain that jolts through the rest of his body. Gasping, he starts running—though it’s more of an awkward limp—for the exit of the alley, his mind consumed with nothing but thoughts of escape. 

He hears the man get to his feet behind him, and chances a look back, just in time to see his assailant leap at him, blade glinting in the dim light.  _ I’m gonna die, _ he thinks, and then  _ I have no choice _ . 

Chengcheng thrusts his hand out into the rapidly closing gap between him and his attacker. On his palm, a blue fox’s orb blooms, expands, and explodes. The force of the spell pushes his attacker back and also propels him out of the alley. Landing on his uninjured leg, he staggers briefly and sprints for the dorms. 

_ There was a camera _ , he realizes belatedly. As he activated his fox abilities. There was the flash of a camera in the darkness—the first shape he’d seen in the shadows…  _ took a picture _ .

He runs clear across the green space in front of the dormitory building, his head whipping back occasionally to see if anyone is following him. There is no sign of the man who attacked him, nor his co-conspirator. He reaches the dorms a minute before curfew, nearly tears the door off its hinges trying to open it, and bolts back up to the room he shares with his teammates. 

Chengcheng bangs on the door. 

“Coming,” Xinchun’s voice comes from the inside.

_ Faster,  _ Chengcheng almost begs.

The door unlocks. He forces his way into the room before it even fully opens and collapses onto the floor. 

* * *

“Fan Chengcheng, holy shit!” 

A loud thump and the panic in Zhu Zhengting’s voice pulls Justin from the cusp of sleep. Blinking he turns over on his bed and sees Zhengting and Xinchun crouching on the floor with their backs to him, a shape lying on the ground between them. 

Justin shoots up and swings out of bed, the shock forcing him awake. He lunges across the room and forces himself between Zhengting and Xinchun. “Chengcheng?” 

The boy in question looks up briefly. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated, and he’s breathing so hard—he’s hyperventilating. Justin scans Chengcheng’s body quickly and his eyes land on his left leg. There’s a ragged tear in his pant leg and dark blood was soaking through the fabric. 

“What the fuck happened?” he asks, moving to pull Chengcheng upright. Zhengting stops him with a hand held in warning, and instead moves Chengcheng only slightly, rolling him from his stomach onto his right side.

“I… don’t… know,” Chengcheng answers between gasps. “ _ They took a picture _ .” 

“Picture?” Xinchun asks, with creased brows. “Fan Chengcheng, you’re not making any sense.”

Justin sees Chengcheng’s hand reaching out, weakly, and he grabs it, clasping his clammy fingers between his own to offer any reassurance he possibly can. Chengcheng squeezes so hard it hurts, but Justin doesn’t let go. 

“Okay, just breathe. We’re gonna get you to the infirmary,” Zhengting tells Chengcheng, as if soothing a scared animal. Justin has to admire how calm he is; this is why he’s the leader. “We need to get your leg looked at.” He turns to Xinchun and Justin authoritatively. “Xinchun, you go and find one of the mentors; anyone. And Justin, help me get Chengcheng to the infirmary.” 

“No,” Chengcheng protests, his hand spasming in Justin’s. “Don’t make me go outside again.” 

Justin and Zhengting share a confused look, but Zhengting just shakes his head when Justin opens his mouth. “Then Justin, you stay here. I’ll go grab a first aid kit.” 

Justin nods, turning his full attention back to Chengcheng. “Do you want to sit up?” he asks softly. 

Chengcheng seems to take a moment to comprehend the question, but then he nods. Carefully, Justin helps Chengcheng sit up, his back to Justin’s bunk. Justin grabs his pillow off the bed and places it behind Chengcheng’s head. 

“Chengcheng, tell me what happened,” he entreats, settling down next to Chengcheng on his knees. He eyes his wound nervously; what if Chengcheng bleeds out before Zhengting gets back? He’s very pale already, and Justin has no idea how much blood he’s lost before making it back here. 

“I was just going to the store,” Chengcheng mumbles. There are tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes where previously he’d been too shocked to cry. “And… I came back the way… you and I found.” 

Chengcheng means the alleys—the narrow pass between all the Sim Studios and training centres and whatnot. Justin wants to admonish him for taking such a route at night, but now is not the time, so instead he just prompts, “And then?” 

“And then… and then there was a shadow, behind me,” Chengcheng chokes out, quivering. “I get scared and start running but this guy… he just cuts in front of me. Couldn’t see his face. I ask him who he is, what he wants, but he doesn’t answer—he just attacks.

“He has a knife with him. I avoid him for a bit and then kicked him; when he fell… he caught me in the leg. Then… to escape I used my powers.”

Suddenly, it all clicks for Justin—why Chengcheng’s first concern was that they took a picture of him. They took a picture of him using his fox lineage. Against a normal person. The media could twist that in ways they never imagined possible. 

This whole time, Justin knew what Chengcheng faced. He just had no idea of the extent.

“They took a photo of you retaliating?” Justin asks gently, just to confirm his worst suspicions. Chengcheng nods and buries his face in the pillow Justin. “Those fuckers.” 

Zhengting returns with a first aid kit and sets about staunching the bleeding from Chengcheng’s leg, murmuring reassurances. Thankfully, the wound isn’t too deep—it wouldn’t need stitches, not with Chengcheng’s relatively rapid rate of healing. Zhengting cleans and bandages the cut expertly before helping him lie down on Justin’s bunk. Chengcheng’s bed is on the top; it wouldn’t do to make him climb a ladder in this condition. 

Xinchun returns some time later, huffing. “I couldn’t find a single mentor,” he says, exasperated. “There’s some staff around, but I didn’t want to ask them… you know how some of them feel about Chengcheng.” 

Zhengting purses his lips. “Someone has to know how to get in touch with one of them. I’ll go and see.”    


He gets up. At the same time, a short knock comes from their door. Zhengting crosses the room quickly and opens it. 

“Commander Zhang,” Zhengting says, taking a surprised step back. From his position beside Chengcheng, Justin cranes his neck to see the commander himself walk in, and a figure retreat back down the hall. Justin catches a glimpse of dark, unreadable eyes and the patrician slope of a nose—it’s Cai Xukun. What does the dragonling have to do with anything?

“I heard a disturbance,” Zhang Yixing says simply, eyeing Chengcheng, who sits up dazedly. “So I came to check.” 

It has to be more than that—there’s a “disturbance” in the dorms pretty much every night, what with sixty kids under one roof.  _ Cai Xukun brought him _ , Justin realizes. He doesn’t know why, or how; only that they owe him for it.

“What happened?” the commander prompts, looking straight at Chengcheng, who averts his gaze. “How were you hurt?”

When Chengcheng doesn’t answer, Justin quickly explains for him, “He went to the store just before curfew, about twenty minutes ago. On the way back, he got assaulted by someone with their face covered and his picture taken by someone else as he tried to fight back.” 

Zhang Yixing frowns. “Where?” 

“Between buildings,” Justin says, once again on Chengcheng’s behalf. “I’m guessing between Sim Studios One and Two?” 

Chengcheng nods, to confirm.

The commander ponders this briefly while scanning everything visible in the room, from Chengcheng’s torn pants to the first aid kit to the smears of blood on the wooden floor when Chengcheng first fell. His eyes linger on the blood briefly, and Justin thinks he sees in the commander’s eyes a shadow of the anger he feels boiling up inside of him. 

“It’s late today,” Zhang Yixing finally says, “so I think we’ll take this up as a formal case in the morning, once you’ve gotten some rest.” He looks at Chengcheng, nods. “I’ll get the security team searching the premises immediately, and first thing after breakfast in the morning, Fan Chengcheng, report to the director’s office.” 

“The director’s office?” Chengcheng rasps, alarmed. “He-” 

“It will just be myself and the other mentors,” Commander Zhang promises him. Chengcheng lets out a breath, relaxing slightly. “Rest assured that we won’t let this go unsolved.” 

Chengcheng thanks the commander profusely and even tries to get up, but is forced back down by both Justin and Zhengting. As Zhang Yixing takes his leave, however, Justin can tell by the hollowness in Chengcheng’s eyes that simply  _ solved _ is worth nothing. 

Zhengting, Xinchun, and Justin all sit around Chengcheng for a few moments, the four of them motionless but for the circles Zhengting rubs into Chengcheng’s leg. Then, Xinchun gets up and heads for the lights, Zhengting retires to his bed, and Justin gets up to sleep in Chengcheng’s upper bunk for the night.

“Wait,” Chengcheng whispers, grabbing onto a fistful of his shirt. “Can you… stay with me?” 

Justin falters. “Okay.” 

Chengcheng lies down and Justin climbs in next to him, drawing his blanket over the both of them. The lights go out. Justin hears Xinchun climb into his bunk and feels Chengcheng trembling under the covers. 

“It’ll be okay,” says Justin, but he knows that he could have said nothing more inadequate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was shorter! hope it was (somewhat??) exciting though :')


	10. let the world be destroyed (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let the world be destroyed—yoga lin  
> the path i've walked to get here has decayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think at some point i realized that fcc had a bottom bunk too but i gave up

When Justin doesn’t see Chengcheng for an entire day, he almost begins to fear that he’s left, either left _NINE_ or left the exploration life for good. His worries persist until the boy in question finally returns to their dorms a half-hour from curfew, with puffy eyes and a gingerness to his movements that suggest his injured leg pains him with every step. 

Zhengting is all gentleness when greeting him, sitting him down on Justin’s bunk and fussing over the dressing on his calf while Justin lingers to the side, unsure what to say. He always used to know Chengcheng so well; he would know exactly how to cheer him up, exactly what to say to draw a laugh out from him and maybe a few quips back. But now, he isn't sure if the situation calls for it, or if he could even say something effective. 

“What did the mentors say?” Zhengting asks softly. “Did they find who did it?” 

Chengcheng nods sullenly. “They turned up the security footage and found a couple men enter the premises and then go off the grid from the other cameras. They’ll be found and prosecuted for trespassing for sure, and maybe for assault and battery if they’re able to turn up any evidence for that.” 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Xinchun has a painful amount of forced optimism in his voice as he comes out of the washroom, his hair glistening with water. All three of them—Justin, Zhengting, and Xinchun—know full well, though, that his assailants themselves are the least of Chengcheng’s problems. 

Chengcheng’s real problem is the pictures. They haven’t been able to surf the web since Bi Wenjun’s phone was confiscated by the staff, but if they really did manage to snap a photo of Chengcheng using his abilities, it’s a certainty that they would now put it to use. 

“If only they get locked up before they can release the photos,” says Chengcheng, burying his face in his hands. “But they’re probably already circulating by now.” 

Based on the things he’s heard said about Fan Chengcheng by the public over the years, Justin can only begin to imagine what this might do to Chengcheng’s reputation, or the Fan family’s reputation as a whole. Fan Chengcheng’s elder sister, Fan Bingbing, is an actress, and a renowned one. It’s also common knowledge that she’s a huli jing—a beautiful fox spirit with supernatural abilities—and particularly powerful for her kind. 

Fan Chengcheng, on the other hand, is supposed to be human. The fox blood is only inheritable through the female line, and a male huli jing hasn’t been seen since ancient times. And Chengcheng isn’t exactly a huli jing—he was not born a fox, nor can he turn into one, but being able to conjure foxfire? The only conclusion they could come up with was that, by pure chance, he had inherited some of the traits. 

Unfortunately, that’s how the criticisms began, although he had been careful to never let his abilities show in public. Justin first met Chengchneg when the latter had joined Yuehua in an attempt to throw himself into some line of work that could keep him away from all the accusations of _demon_ , _curse_ , and _unwanted child_. He practiced hard in all areas, but neglected to ever train his abilities, which is why Justin was surprised when, a month after coming to Dachang, Chengcheng suddenly embraced them again. 

But he thought positively of it. Chengcheng was learning to ignore the baseless claims, to move past the prejudice and hone his abilities to his heart’s content. Now, with the possibility that his powers are circulating for all to see and judge, it seems almost as if he’s retreating back into his shell, his hard-earned confidence crumbling once more. 

“Did the mentors say they would do anything about the pictures?” Justin asks hopefully. 

Chengcheng looks at him through hollow, red-rimmed eyes. “What can they do, Justin? The mentors don’t control the Internet.” 

Zhengting stands up and puts a hand on Chengcheng’s shoulder with a sigh. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?” Chengcheng nods. “For now, just get some rest. We have to select positions tomorrow for the upcoming evaluations.” 

“Right,” Chengcheng makes a weak attempt at sounding more spirited. “I’ll focus on what I can control.” 

To Zhengting’s credit, he just gives him a wide, white smile. “That’s it.” He pulls him into a tight hug. “Alright, now go get washed up.” 

While Chengcheng is in the washroom, Justin quickly smooths out the covers and sits down on the edge of the bed. He’ll wait until Chengcheng comes to get in—Chengcheng would want to sleep on the inside, as he did the night before. 

When Chengcheng comes out, however, he just walks over and says, “I’ll sleep on my bunk tonight.” 

“Oh, sure.” Justin quickly hands him his pillow. He isn’t sure if this means that Chengcheng’s state of mind is better or if he’s just putting more distance between them. “Are you sure you can climb the ladder?” 

“It’ll only hurt for a second.” Chengcheng shrugs. “Thanks.” 

Justin watches as he hauls himself up onto the top bunk with a hiss of pain. Justin lies down and draws his blankets up around him as he hears Chengcheng settle above him and say, “Let’s choose different groups tomorrow.” 

“Zhengting and I won’t be in the same group as you, anyway,” says Xinchun from across. “I need to get a navigation challenge tomorrow, or I’m fucked.” 

“I was talking to Justin,” Chengcheng replies, as if it had been obvious. It had. Justin isn’t even sure why Xinchun responded. 

“Why?” Justin asks. 

“I think it’ll be better if I spend some time alone,” he says. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Are you sure?” Zhengting inquires, whilst turning out the lights and heading for his own bunk. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to be with Justin rather than complete strangers?” 

Chengcheng is quiet for a moment. Then, he says, “I know I’m a fuck-up, Zhengting; I never seem to give you a break, do I? But can you trust me? Just this once.” 

Zhengting seems to be at a loss of words, given his silence. Justin doesn’t know what to say either. For once, he has no idea what’s going on in Chengcheng’s head. 

“Good night,” says Chengcheng. 

“Good night,” they all say it back, but Justin can tell that no one sleeps for a while. 

“Justin, it’s your turn to make a choice.” Zhang Yixing beckons for him to step out of the crowd. He’s the fourth in the remaining sixty trainees to choose a challenge for position evaluations. “Please tell me which challenge you plan to take on.” 

The choices this time around are categorized by their specialization followed by a defining feature of this challenge. In Justin’s case, he plans to take on challenge T-2; T for tactics and 2 apparently denoting that it’s a speed-response type of Simulacrum. It would involve a horde of Frontier beasts and test the efficiency of the trainees responses to them. 

He tells Zhang Yixing his choice and crosses to the other side of the wall. There, he sees the three people ranked above him—Cai Xukun, Chen Linong, and Fan Chengcheng—all standing in a neat line together in front of challenge T-1. 

“What do you guys think I am, stupid?” he asks them, rolling his eyes. “There’s no way all three of you guys are in the same challenge.” 

“What makes you think that?” says Cai Xukun. It’s a little bit unexpected when Justin realizes that he’s trying hard not to smile; he’s never really interacted with “proud, distant” Cai Xukun before. Not to mention that the descriptive words that came out of Zhengting’s mouth about the dragonling on the daily imply that he’s more than a little bit of an asshole.

“Chen Linong, tactics? Bullshit,” he replies. “Go back to navigation, Nongnong.” 

“Aw, come on.” Linong pouts, his already downturned eyes curving into thin half-moons. He breaks their formation and shuffles out of the T-1 line to cross back over to N-4, across the room. “You’re no fun, Justin.” 

Justin laughs. “No one said anything about fun when we signed up for this.” 

He takes his spot in front of challenge T-2 as Chengcheng remains in front of T-1. His teammate is looking straight ahead intently, the smile from the earlier prank already fading. 

Justin wonders what it means, wonders if Chengcheng’s okay, but all he asks is, “How’s your leg?” 

Chengcheng gives him a warning look and mouths _Not here_ , but replies, “Fine.” 

Justin turns to Cai Xukun, who so far, though conveying an air of distance and aloofness, displays little of the arrogance Zhengting had complained so incessantly about. “So, it looks like we’re in the same challenge,” he says. “It’s nice to finally get to work with you.” 

“Likewise,” Xukun responds politely. “I’ve heard good things about you.” 

Justin raises his eyebrows. “From?” 

“Zhu Zhengting,” is the reply. Now this is interesting, and highly contradictory. Xukun seems to notice this, too, and clarifies, “We didn’t really communicate much. But he does talk a lot. And loudly.” 

Justin snickers. That sounds more like it. 

Then something occurs to him, from two nights ago. Cai Xukun disappearing down the hall after bringing Zhang Yixing to their room. 

“Thanks for finding the commander for us,” Justin says, quietly enough so that Chengcheng can’t hear.

Xukun nods, staring straight ahead. “No worries.” 

The room slowly fills up. Justin sees Zhengting pick C-1 and Quanzhe pick N-4, the same one as Chen Linong. Bu Fan from Qin’s Research makes up the third member of his and Xukun’s team, T-2, and Wang Ziyi from BBT is their last. 

Ziyi and Xukun seem to be close friends, so Justin leaves them to strike up a conversation with Bu Fan. “You’re so tall.” 

Bu Fan snorts. “I get that a lot. It’s the familiar.” 

That’s right. Bu Fan is a witch of the shapeshifting variety, like Justin’s teammate Ding Zeren, who can turn into a raven. Bu Fan’s familiar… well, it’s certainly unorthodox. “Right. The husky.”

The last contestant to choose is Liang Hui, who goes into Combat for lack of choice. Afterwards, they’re dismissed to begin practicing on their own, and also to undertake the choosing of the team’s leader and point.

It usually isn’t a necessity for an actual Frontier exploration team to select a member to fulfill the role of ‘point,’ but for the sake of the contest (whoever obtains point position will receive the most screen time) they do so now. Justin sits with Xukun, Ziyi, and Bu Fan on the floor in a semicircle, with the two designation patches between them. 

“Let’s start with leader,” Ziyi proposes. “Who would like to be the leader?” 

Tentatively, Xukun raises a hand. There is no competition or objections—Justin has his eyes on something else, and as far as Justin cares Cai Xukun is more than competent.

“Everyone’s okay with Xukun being the leader?” 

“Fine by me,” says Bu Fan. “Justin?” 

Justin leans back on his hands. “Yup.” 

“Well, that was easy,” says Ziyi. He passes Xukun the blue patch with an ‘L’ on it, and Xukun presses it onto his sweater with thanks. “Now, who wants to take point?” 

Justin’s hand shoots up into the air. He surveys the rest of the group and sees that Wang Ziyi has also raised his hand. 

“Aw, I thought I’d get it easy like our leader,” Justin jokes, wondering if it would mask how competitive he really feels. 

He needs point, and the privileges allotted to the position. Exploring the Frontier has been everything he’s ever wanted, and without Bi Wenjun’s phone to constantly keep an eye on how he stands with the crowd, he can’t help but worry that in the last few episodes some other trainees have overtaken his position. Not to mention mentor decisions are now being factored into their rankings.

“Well, why don’t we do a vote for point?” says Bu Fan. “Justin, Ziyi, close your eyes. Xukun and I can decide.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Ziyi says. He looks to Justin. There is nothing but sincerity in those eyes and it makes Justin feel weirdly guilty. 

Justin pulls his knees in close to his chest and buries his face in them. Ziyi remains cross-legged and bows his head. He feels every bit of his body tingling in anticipation as he hears Xukun and Bu Fan move, the rustling indicating that they’re pointing to their choices.

Justin waits. Thirty seconds. A minute. A minute and a half. He’s beginning to get impatient. “Are you guys done yet?” 

“We can’t seem to reach a consensus,” Xukun says.

“It’s okay.” Ziyi lifts his head, bumping into Xukun’s finger, which has been hovering over him. “Justin, you can take point.” 

Justin’s head snaps up. “Are you serious?” 

Ziyi smiles. “Yes. If you want it, you can take point. There are more chances for me.” 

“I don’t know if I can just accept that,” Justin gets out. He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, but he has to admit that it’s hard. It’s like receiving red packets of money at Chinese New Year from your relatives, refusing out of courtesy, and eventually giving in to their insistence. Only Justin doesn’t know if Ziyi would insist. 

He does, thank the gods. “Don’t worry about it. We’re a team.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Sure.” 

Justin grins widely, and hopes Ziyi takes that for more gratitude than glee.

* * *

Lin Yanjun jokes half-heartedly with Jeffrey and tries to ignore the way that Lu Dinghao looks at Huang Xinchun, because if he gives it too much thought he might slap them. Yanjun is also trying to pretend that nothing is wrong and missing out on point (again, might he add, and that last time turned out terribly) doesn’t faze him at all. 

It fazes him a lot. He doesn’t want to blame Dinghao for eventually giving in and voting for Jeffrey but he blames Dinghao anyway. Maybe this pettiness is because half of Trainee18 is just _gone_ now and an entire room empty _,_ maybe it’s because he embarrassed himself in front of You Zhangjing, or maybe it’s because the night before a storm of sand and stone sliced his skin to little ribbons and he woke up still feeling the sting—regardless of the reason, he’s feeling like shit and he wants to slap someone. His teammates are looking more and more viable by the second. 

“Lin Yanjun, you look like you want to slap someone,” Dinghao comments, accurately but utterly unhelpfully. “Are you okay? This isn’t because of the voting, right? Because, really, we had to come to a decision and you know I’m always honest with you. Jeffrey’s the better navigator—” 

“I’m fine, thanks,” he says shortly. “Maybe if you’d shut up it would help.” 

“Sorry,” Jeffrey says, completely failing to read the mood. Yanjun can’t really fault him for that because the guy is just too nice, too innocent. So what he really means is that he can’t fault Jeffrey for anything. _He has a pink, chicken-shaped egg cooker, for fuck’s sake._ Who could be mad at someone like him? “If you really want point, we can switch—”

Yanjun shakes his head. “No, no. You deserve it.” 

“Then why do you look so angry?” Dinghao continues to prod. It’s hard to tell if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s really that oblivious. Yanjun plasters a very fake smile onto his face in hopes his teammate gets the point. 

“I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” 

They’ve reached the dorms. Yanjun ignores Dinghao, says goodbye to Jeffrey and Xinchun, and barricades himself in the washroom in his room. Chen Linong and Xu Kaihao aren’t back from practice yet, so he has the room to himself. 

He takes a considerably quick shower (only half an hour) and makes himself comfortable on his bed, the bottom bunk opposite Linong’s. Then, he takes a breath and closes his eyes. 

_Hey, Mango._

_Call me that again and our contract is off_. A sleek black cat seems to have appeared out of nowhere, perched regally on his pillow. It’s Yanjun’s cat familiar, Mango. Mango’s real name has been used before, maybe upon their meeting, but Yanjun has long since forgotten. It’s been a decade, after all. 

“You wouldn’t,” he calls his bluff with a smirk. “You’ve been saying that for years, but are you still my familiar? Yes.”

_Remind me again why I took you on so young_. Mango rolls his feline eyes. _So, what is it, Lin Yanjun? You only call me when you need something._

“You only answer if you also need something,” Yanjun refutes. “Why don’t you start?” 

_You wound me._

“Are you saying I’m wrong?” 

_No, but I’m still wounded._ Mango stretches out on his pillow, making himself comfortable. _You don’t seem to have much time for me anymore, Lin Yanjun._

Yanjun laughs dryly. “I don’t have much time for anyone.” 

_The Frontier calls you, is it?_

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he says, shrugging. “But since you won’t tell me why you actually showed up for once, I’ll start. What do you know about nightmares?” 

The words feel stupid as soon as they come out of his mouth, and they make him feel vulnerable. It’s as if he’s a clueless middle-schooler again, meeting Mango in his dreams while still believing it’s his fate to become a potioneer like his father while his sister follows in their mother’s footsteps. 

_Nightmares._ The cat repeats. _That’s not really my area of expertise._

“What are you even good for?” Yanjun groans, and regrets that, too. He should cut Mango some slack. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” 

Mango looks nonplussed, although it’s always hard to tell with cats. _No need to apologize. I’m used to your attitude. But please, tell me more about the nightmares_. 

“It’s happening almost every night,” Yanjun admits. He hates how exposed he feels right now, but despite their differences, he knows that his familiar is likely the only being in this world he can trust completely. Hell could freeze over and Mango would be by his side for it—they are bound by blood, after all. “Some days the dream is a recurring one, other days I get new ones.” 

_What do you see?_

“The one that recurs the most involves two trainees and a fire.” He rubs at the crease between his eyebrows as he recalls it. “Two A-ranked trainees are together, and a huge fire engulfs them. And that’s it.” 

Mango mulls over that, his tail swishing back and forth. _What else?_

“There’s a storm over the sea,” he recounts. “A pyramid lost in mist. A forest so dark you can hardly see where you’re putting your feet. And more recently, a sandstorm or something. A lot of rocks falling.” 

_I can look into those for you,_ Mango offers. _I have contacts who may be able to divine the meanings of your dreams_. 

“Do you think there’s a possibility that they’re premonitions?” Yanjun asks, voicing the fear that has been growing inside him like unchecked weeds since the day You Zhangjing made A-rank a month ago. The possibility that he will be making it to the Frontier does little to dent his anxiety. 

Mango looks as pensive as cats get. _I would not discount it, no, but I would also refrain from thinking too much until we know for certain. Stress is powerful, Lin Yanjun._

Yanjun hums in understanding. “Thanks for the talk, Mango.” 

_Call me by my real name for once_. 

“I don’t know it.” 

Mango makes a purring noise that might be taken for a laugh. He comes closer so that Yanjun can pet him briefly in a gesture of farewell, before disappearing in a swirl of ink. 


	11. let the world be destroyed (iii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let the world be destroyed—yoga lin  
> let my proud ashes represent who i once was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mifan stop-taking-song-lyrics-out-of-context-to-make-them-edgy challenge: failed

Wang Ziyi doesn’t want to be the one to call it quits. He wasn’t raised that way, after all—he was raised to always let someone else be the worse, the weaker one, because the gods forbid the name of his noble clan be tarnished by such an action. 

But that life is behind him, he reminds himself. His family is behind him, behind their screens with sullen, disapproving faces as they mutter about _this_ scandal or _that_ fairy who isn’t good enough to associate with them. Here, at Dachang, he can talk to whoever he likes without some Wang matriarch looking at them like trash, and he can ask for a break if he needs it. 

Besides, he’s not the only one with sweat running rivers down his face. Justin looks like he’s about to pass out, and Bu Fan’s long limbs, which usually afford him an advantage in combat, look more ungainly than anything. Ziyi is faring better against Cai Xukun’s relentless pace, in comparison. 

“Hey, Xukun,” he says, between pants, “can we take a break?” 

The dragonling pauses the Simulacrum, a customized one that sends one Frontier beast after another without giving you any room to breathe. Xukun looks around at his team, as if for the first time aware that they are so tired they could probably just die. 

“Oh, yeah.” He goes to the settings screen and hits the exit button, the simulated world around them melting away. “Sorry about that. Just tell me if you guys need a break.” 

Ziyi echoes the sighs of relief around him and sits down on the ground heavily, taking a deep swig from his water bottle. Ever since they were given the challenge, their leader has been running them to the ground, and Ziyi doesn’t know how much longer he could handle Xukun’s training regimen. Cai Xukun is nothing if not intense.

He looks around at their teammates. Justin is lying spread-eagle on the floor, his thin chest still heaving. Bu Fan leans against the wall with his eyes closed and a bottle of Nongfu Spring water pressed to his face.

Ziyi watches as Xukun finishes taking off his hand wraps and approaches him. He can’t help but feel inexplicably drawn towards the way he moves, so casually decisive, as if every step carries the purpose of the world. “Walk with me,” Xukun says simply, offering him a hand. 

Ziyi takes it and stands, feeling his legs tremble and hoping it doesn’t show. “We’re going to take a walk,” he tells Justin and Bu Fan. No one voices any objections; Justin just holds up a thumb and Bu Fan nods.

They walk side-by-side and in silence until they reach the fourth floor of the building. They try the broom closet first, but they can hear talking coming from within it and move on to one of the unused rooms. Xukun sweeps the place for any cameras and, finding none, sits down on the floor heavily. 

“I’m sorry,” Xukun sighs. “I’m a bad leader.” 

Ziyi crosses his legs next to him, leaning back and bracing his weight on his hands. “Don’t be. You’re doing fine.” 

“No,” Xukun says abruptly. “I’m only thinking for myself. Maybe you should be leader, instead.” 

“You’re just trying to get us to be the best we can be,” Ziyi protests, but he can hear the doubt in his own voice and feel it in his aching muscles and sweat-slicked hair. “It makes sense to push us.” 

“You don’t understand, Ziyi.” Xukun’s words are full of guilt. “I should pay more attention to the needs of my team, not myself.” 

Ziyi looks at him quizzically. “What don’t I understand?” 

Xukun is biting his lower lip. In the weeks Ziyi has come to know him, it means that he has something he wants to say but can’t. It’s happened on more than one occasion, now, and each time Ziyi wonders if it would finally be the time he finds out what it is. 

“Can I trust you?” Xukun asks, holding Ziyi’s gaze with his. There is vulnerability there, Ziyi realizes, and he isn’t sure what to do but to say yes. “Good. Here’s what I have to tell you—I train like I’m going to die if I don’t because I’m going to die if I don’t.”

Ziyi blinks. “That’s a mouthful.” 

Xukun laughs bitterly. “So is tri-lineage incompatibility.” 

The term rings a bit of a bell in Ziyi’s head, before he remembers what it’s derived from—dual-lineage incompatibility, a potentially life-threatening dragonling condition he’s only ever read about in Zhang Yixing’s Baidu entry. His eyes widen when he realizes the implications of the _tri_ that replaces _dual_ in Xukun’s case. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” he asks Xukun, inching closer to the dragonling. Up close, Ziyi can see all the signs—how could he have missed them before? Or maybe he’d just misinterpreted them, taking the dark eye circles for the lack of sleep all of them suffer, and the flames that sometimes dance on his palms as nothing more than an afterthought. 

“I didn’t know who I can trust here and who I can’t,” Xukun answers. From the grimace on his face, one would think the raw honesty hurts him. “I was worried that if others knew, it could be used against me. I think if word got out that I was dying, it would ruin my chances of getting to the Frontier, wouldn’t you?” 

“You’re not dying,” Ziyi says firmly.

He’s glad to see that there’s fire behind Xukun eyes where he feared he would find resignation. “I’m doing my best not to.” 

“What can I do to help you?” 

“Help me?” Xukun questions, tilting his head slightly. “There really isn’t much left for me except to make it to the Frontier.” 

Ziyi doesn’t know what drives him, if it’s instinct or otherwise, but he grabs one of Xukun’s hands with his own tightly. The dragonling looks down, startled, but doesn’t let go. “To what end, Xukun?” 

He doesn’t answer for a while, but when he does, he laughs dryly. “I’m chasing ghosts, Ziyi. I have been for years. Have you ever heard the legends?” 

Ziyi shakes his head.

“The last dragons are at the heart of the Frontier,” Xukun says. “I have no choice but to make it there." 

“You will,” Ziyi tells him. He forces Xukun to look him in the eyes, and pulls him forward into an awkward half hug before he can protest. “If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll get you to the Frontier, Cai Xukun.”

* * *

Xiao Gui stretches out on his bunk, which is above Zhou Yanchen's. Opposite him Zhang Yankai's bed is empty; the youngest member of their team had been eliminated in the last round and returned to Beijing. 

The other beds are also empty. Zhu Xingjie is in the washroom, and Zhou Yanchen is still at practice, despite it being three in the morning. Yanchen has always been like that—pushing his own limits to a point where it isn't even remotely healthy anymore. Xingjie has been trying to get him to practice less, ever since Yanchen started coughing up red a week ago, to little avail. Yanchen just sneaks off when they’re all asleep. 

"Are you ready, ge?" Xiao Gui asks Xingjie as the latter comes out of the washroom. 

Xingjie grins. "Why the hell not?" 

Xiao Gui returns the smile. It's always been this quality of Xingjie's that Xiao Gui has admired most—he is confident but not cocky, assertive but not arrogant. He is encouraging when he needs to be, and faces every challenge with the same sharp grin followed by the way his features narrow in concentration. Not for the first time, Xiao Gui looks at Zhu Xingjie and sees a person he wants to be. 

"When do you think Zhou Yanchen will be back?" Xiao Gui asks. 

Xingjie presses his lips into a thin line, obviously concerned. "I don't know. You know how he is." 

Xiao Gui grunts in understanding. "Then I guess I'll just go to sleep. Good night, ge." 

"Night." 

Just as Xiao Gui slips under his covers, however, there comes a loud, urgent rapping on their door. Xingjie stands up to open it as Xiao Gui leans over the side of the bed to see who it is. 

"Mingjun," Xingjie says, surprised, "what's the matter?" 

"It's Zhou Yanchen," says Yu Mingjun, still catching his breath. He must have sprinted from the Sim Studio. "You guys gotta come." 

Xiao Gui flings aside his blankets and vaults over the side of the bunk bed, landing on the floor easily. "What happened to Yanchen?" 

"I don't really know," Mingjun answers, already heading out the door. "But we were practicing, and when we finished the Sim, he fainted." 

"Sorry, _what_?" Xiao Gui demands, but Xingjie shakes his head. 

"Just take us to him," he says, impossibly calm. "Is he getting medical attention?" 

Mingjun nods, leading them down the stairs. "It doesn't seem like his life is in danger, but they're calling an ambulance for him." 

"Who's with him?" 

"Our team and some staff." 

Outside, the February air is still freezing, but Xiao Gui ignores the way the wind bites into his skin through his sweater. He and Xingjie follow Mingjun across the campus to the Studio, jogging as fast as they dare in the dark.

Inside the Studio, people are talking in low, anxious voices. Xiao Gui and Xingjie ignore them all, heading straight for where most people present are huddled in a circle on the floor. 

"Get out of the way," says Xiao Gui, pushing his way past a cluster of trainees waiting their turn to use the simulator. "Move!"

"Calm down," Xingjie mutters by his ear, with a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're worried, but-" 

They've made it to the front of the crowd, and Xiao Gui can see where Zhou Yanchen is lying on the floor, chest heaving and eyes glassy. Ding Zeren from Yuehua, with whom Yanchen has grown quite close, is at his side dabbing at his forehead with a cloth while blinking furiously. A member of the staff is on the phone with an emergency operator. 

"Hey, Zhou Yanchen." Xiao Gui drops to his knees by his side. "Are you okay?" 

Yanchen's head tilts towards him slightly. He’s very pale. Xiao Gui makes contact with a pair of glazed, unfocused eyes. "H-hey." 

"What happened?" He hears Xingjie ask Ding Zeren. "Was it the Sim?" 

Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Zeren shake his head. "No. We've run the Sim at least a hundred and fifty times by now—the last fifty times were essentially perfect." His voice is quivering. "That number was the problem, if I have to guess." 

Xiao Gui shoots to his feet. “And you guys let him do that?” 

Zeren bites his lower lip. "Yanchen-ge always works so hard. Harder than all of us. He keeps practicing after we're all done, and we tell him to stop, but he says that he's the leader so he needs to do more—gods, he was picking up our slack, wasn't he?" 

Hearing this makes a wave of anger wash over Xiao Gui, and he sees red. "What kind of teammates are you supposed to be?" 

"I-I don't know," says Zeren. "If I knew this would happen—" 

"Cut the bullshit. This happened, and it's because of you guys." 

"Xiao Gui." He hears the warning in Xingjie's voice as he cuts in. "Calm down." 

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down," he snarls back. This is _Yanchen_ lying on the ground, he wants to remind him. _Zhou Yanchen_ , their teammate, their friend, the boy Xiao Gui sees as the brother he never had. "If it weren’t for them, maybe Yanchen would be okay!" 

"Wang Linkai." This makes him freeze—Xingjie would never use his real name unless he has something important to say, or if he's angry at him. Xiao Gui guesses it's the latter, but why should he care? He's angry too—angry at Ding Zeren and Yu Mingjun and Jiang Dahe and everyone else on this stupid team for letting Yanchen do that to himself. 

He turns back to Zeren to continue before he feels a hand on his shoulder, firmer than it needs to be. "Wang Linkai," Xingjie repeats. His eyes have taken on a faint red sheen, and Xiao Gui knows him well enough that it’s a sign that he _needs_ to stop if he doesn’t want his ass handed to him. "That's enough. What we _should_ be doing here, instead of bickering and pointing fingers, is getting Yanchen help. The ambulance is coming." 

He sighs through his nose and backs down reluctantly, giving Ding Zeren one last glare. The look of utter self-loathing on the shapeshifter's face is almost enough for Xiao Gui to feel some semblance of guilt, but he smothers it with his anger and frustrations. 

The ambulance arrives soon enough, and Xiao Gui and Xingjie help wheel Yanchen into it on a wheelchair. They ride with him in the back and fuss over him, asking him questions that he seems too tired to answer, so they eventually back off and let him sit there and stare at the ground. 

"Do we know what happened?" Xiao Gui whispers in Xingjie's ear. Yanchen can probably hear, but he doesn't say anything. 

"I'm guessing it's just exhaustion," Xingjie says. "Since he's physically human, it might be hard to keep up with his team's pace of practice, but he's also the leader, so he does more to make up for it; those things combined could do this to anyone." 

Xiao Gui leans back against the walls of the ambulance. "Okay."

Yanchen isn't going to die, he knows, but he can't help but try and imagine a life without him. 

He first met Yanchen and Xingjie and Yankai two years ago, when he was still living in a box in an alley and got by taking on odd jobs, most of them very much legally grey, the rest probably plain illegal. Ironically, his constant thwarting of the law was what brought the Gramarie team to him—they were hired by the local government to look into the "crazy fucking imp that works for the blackmailers." 

They'd expected a hardened criminal of some sort, perhaps, but instead they came across a scrawny sixteen year old with a cardboard box house eating instant noodles made with boiled water he snuck out of the gas station. 

_What the fuck do you guys want?_ he'd asked them. 

_Gods, I would feel terrible beating this kid up_ , commented one of the three people who surrounded him—he was the median in terms of height, and had a bright white grin Xiao Gui felt would blind him on a sunnier day. This was Zhou Yanchen. 

_You guys looking for a fight?_ Xiao Gui would've gladly obliged them, but that was before he found out all three of them were training like special ops on the daily. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, of course, but against them? Would've had his ass kicked soundly. 

_Nah,_ said the pale boy. He was the shortest, but there was an undeniable air about him that made Xiao Gui more cautious; he suspected he was their leader. _We were just supposed to find you and turn you in because of all the dirt you have on people, but you can imagine we feel kind of bad._

He hates when people pity him; although those days are gone, he can remember what it feels like and it still brings a bitter taste to his mouth. 

_I don't need your sympathy,_ he spat. _Either square up or get lost._

Xingjie shared a look with Yanchen and smirked. _There's a third option, and maybe you'll like that one more._

Xiao Gui raised an eyebrow skeptically. _That is?_

Yanchen gives him a perfect smile. _Become one of us._

_And what exactly are you guys?_

_Explorers,_ said Yankai. When he saw Xiao Gui's expression, he turned defensive. _It isn't as cheesy as it sounds, you know. Don't you ever want to see what's beyond our world?_

 _You guys are talking about the Frontier._ Xiao Gui's knowledge about the Frontier was limited, then; growing up in an orphanage and moving to the streets when he turned twelve doesn't really give you much time to be concerned about things like societal advancement—you just tried to survive and stay out of the police station. _The place filled with monsters and shit._

 _And the future of our civilization,_ Yanchen added, completely disregarding his snort of derision. _But we think you'd be an asset, kid, and our company has been looking for new recruits for a while now. An imp would be a nice addition._

He looked them up and down. _What are you guys?_

 _I'm human,_ said Yankai. _Zhou Yanchen here's a witch. And Zhu Xingjie is a vampire._

Xiao Gui rolled his eyes so hard he felt as if they were going to pop out of his sockets. _Gods, a vampire. Privileged bastard._

Xingjie crossed his arms, although he didn't look too offended. More amused than anything. _That's a bit rude..._

 _Xiao Gui,_ he filled in the gap for his name. That's what some of the other kids on the street called him, now. That name, along with his penchant for mischief, began preceding him.

 _Come on, that can't be your real name,_ Yanchen scoffed. 

_Doesn't mean you can't call me that._

Xingjie shrugged. _Okay, Xiao Gui. Are you in or what? You'll get three meals a day and a place to stay and the law off your back. How does that sound?_

 _Thanks, but no thanks._ He shoved his hands into his pockets. _I'm not into that._

 _A shame._ Xingjie sighed, rummaging in his coat for a small card. He leaned forward and tucked it into the pocket of Xiao Gui's worn denim jacket. _Give it some thought, though. The cafeteria makes chow mein on Thursdays._

With that, he turned and left with the other two. At the end of the alley, Yanchen looked back and called, with a wave, _Remember, stay out of trouble, or we'll be forced to get you for real next time._

That Thursday he found himself outside of the Gramarie Research Institute headquarters with the business card Zhu Xingjie had given him. He didn’t know what exactly prompted his change of heart and would never admit that the idea of a bed was actually enticing, and so was this concept of _friends_. He had no idea when Xingjie had the time to add that little note to the card, but the invitation was more tempting than he had expected. 

_You came_ . Xingjie emerged from the sliding glass doors of the building, dressed tactically like he was ready to go off to the Frontier any minute. _Did the chow mein do it?_

Xiao Gui shrugged. _The offer sounded a bit better after the storm last night._ His clothes were still damp from that.

_Well, come on in. We’ll get you cleaned up._

And that’s how Xiao Gui became a member of the F4, as much as that name and pop culture references in general still irk him. Xingjie did as promised, getting him settled in and introduced to the staff. It took some time for them to accept the fact that a homeless kid who belonged in jail had just become a part of their next Frontier team, but they came around and Xingjie, being their greatest asset, had a lot of pull with the company. 

It was Yanchen who showed him a lot of the ropes when it came to combat and navigation and how things worked now that he was a part of their world. Yanchen’s smile became a part of his day in the same way the sun would rise in the east and set in the west. 

Seeing him like this now stokes a fire in him that no amount of the disciplined training he’d received could ever temper. For the rest of the ambulance ride to the hospital, Xiao Gui occupies himself with fantasizing about punching Ding Zeren in the mouth, full of perfect teeth and excuses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ziyi's part was a mess oops
> 
> and ngl i don't get to write about gui much in this fic so i cherish every moment with him uwu 
> 
> also realized that every time i have a hard time writing a sequence i just deliberately leave it vague and pretend it's subtext so now that i know this i'll try and improve! if you've read to this point i honestly commend you for how much vagueness you've had to suffer through i'm sorry i'm not intelligent
> 
> a bonus chapter coming soon!


	12. bonus - together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> together—next  
> together, i'm no longer afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so in case you haven't noticed zeren isn't exactly a pov character but this scene wouldn't let me rest until i wrote it so buckle up and get ready for yanren 
> 
> and note: if you guys aren't sure who are pov characters for this they're npc + yixing! i know i only gave yixing one part so far but he has more, trust me
> 
> another note: may have forgot to mention in earlier chapters so i'm clarifying now—in the context of the story, yanchen's a clairvoyant witch!

Ding Zeren always does the stupid things, and Zhou Yanchen always lets him. That’s their dynamic. Not the other way around. 

Then, why is it that Yanchen’s the one being rushed to the hospital the morning of their specialization evaluations?

Yu Mingjun has to pull him back when he tries to follow him to the ambulance. 

“Can’t you see? Xiao Gui will kill you,” he hisses. “Do you want our team to lose another member?” 

“I can take him on any day,” Zeren refutes, for the sake of arguing. 

Mingjun just sighs, his grip on Zeren’s arm loosening as the ambulance pulls away, lights flashing. Zeren could turn into a bird and chase it down, but his best instincts, even clouded as they are, advise him against that course of action. “That isn’t the point. What we need to do right now is modify our formation to make up for Yanchen’s absence. You’re point  _ and _ leader now.

“Yanchen will get better by the time we run the Sim,” Zeren insists. “We’re scheduled for five.” 

Yu Mingjun doesn’t understand, Zeren thinks—Yanchen didn’t work himself half to death to miss out on this opportunity. He just didn’t. He just  _ can’t _ . 

“Even if he’s on his feet by then, do you really want him exerting himself?” There’s a sharp edge in Mingjun’s voice. “Ding Zeren, have you thought about that?” 

Zeren opens his mouth and closes it again. There’s reason in that, he has to admit; arguing against it would be hard. So he exhales out of his nose loudly, shakes Mingjun’s hand off, and walks back to the Studio. 

Inside, the rest of his team is waiting anxiously. 

“How’s Yanchen?” Ling Qi asks quickly, his boyish features twisted with worry. “Did he go to the hospital?” 

Zeren nods numbly. “We’ll have to keep practicing without him for now. Is everyone okay with me taking over as leader temporarily?” 

He’s met with unanimous agreement. With Zeren in the lead, and in sullen silence, they head back to the training room set aside for them and review formations without Yanchen until Zeren can’t take it anymore. At about four in the morning, he dismisses his team and stumbles back to his dorm, where he promptly collapses onto his bunk. He falls asleep with something warm and wet on his cheeks and not enough energy to process the feelings that accompany it. 

He wakes up four hours later to Bi Wenjun shaking him gently. 

“Hey,” he says, his voice impossibly soft. He’s always been like that; it’s the siren half that makes his voice so fucking smooth, Zeren thinks. “Zhou Yanchen’s back. He wants to see you.”

Zeren bolts upright, his eyes snapping open despite the crust from the tears. He rubs them furiously. “Where is he?”

“Slow down,” Wenjun warns him. “He’s back in his dorm. I’m going to check for you to make sure Xiao Gui isn’t in there right now; he and Zhengting almost fought each other over you and Yanchen because Xiao Gui said you were a bad teammate—” 

Zeren gets out of bed hastily and puts on the nearest pair of slippers. He doesn’t give a fuck if they’re Quanzhe’s or Shuhao’s or Wenjun’s—probably the latter because they’re at least two sizes too big for him—and bolts for the door before Wenjun can finish. 

“Yanchen-ge? Zhou Yanchen!” Zeren knocks on their door hard and fast. He hears a shuffling from inside the room before the door opens, revealing the boy in question, looking pale, drained, and tired. “Oh gods, Yanchen.” 

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Come on in. Yue Yue dragged Xiao Gui and Jie-ge off to practice again, so it’s just me.” 

Zeren doesn’t wait for the door to open fully before he tackles Yanchen into an embrace, burying his face into the junction of Yanchen’s neck and shoulder. Yanchen almost falls, but steadies himself just in time, returning the hug weakly. 

Zeren lets go and marches him into the room and seats Yanchen on his bunk. “How are you feeling?” 

“Not great,” Yanchen admits, with a wry smile. “But I’ll be doing the evaluation with you guys, so don’t you worry.” 

“You shouldn’t if you’re not feeling up to it,” Zeren says, remember what Mingjun said earlier. He feels a little guilty—he really hadn’t thought it through. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself again.” 

“I won’t,” he promises. “I’ll be careful. Besides, Mingjun dropped by earlier; he showed me a clip of you guys running the Sim. You’ll be more than enough to make up for any inadequacies I might have.” 

“If you say so,” Zeren says, but mostly he focuses on the fact that Yu Mingjun got to see Yanchen before he did and, as unfair as it is, a part of him blames Wenjun for not waking him up as soon as Yanchen came back.

“I’m sure,” says Yanchen. “I wanted to wait until just before the challenge to tell you, but a couple nights ago I may have seen something in our future… guess.” 

“We win first place?” Zeren asks. His excitement spikes briefly before falling again; Yanchen’s face is still so ashen that it’s hard for him to feel optimistic about anything, even if Yanchen himself seems to be in good spirits. 

“Well, take another guess.” Yanchen snorts. “Actually, I know you. You’ll never get it. I’ll just tell you—you’ll get first place in our group.” He pauses, scrutinizing his expression. “What’s wrong with you? You should be happy about that.” 

Zeren looks down at his feet. Something about what Yanchen said doesn’t sit well with him, and only when he figures out what it is does he lift his head, meeting Yanchen’s good-natured, confused eyes. 

“It should be you, Yanchen-ge,” he says quietly. “I don’t deserve it nearly as much as you do.”

Yanchen stares at him for a second, before giving him a dismissive wave. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your skills are top-notch; hell, I don’t think there are many—or  _ any _ —combatants here better than you. Of course you deserve it.” 

“You’re just as good,” Zeren insists. His voice cracks a little bit as something wells up inside him, caustic and burning. “And you worked so much harder. You did so much more for our team.” 

“You taught everyone new attack techniques,” says Yanchen, patiently. “That’s a huge contribution, given that a few members of our team weren’t even combat specialists, originally. Now they’re all good enough to hold their own.” 

“But I didn’t almost  _ die _ .” His voice breaks for real, now, and there’s something warm trickling down his cheeks again. He just stands there, pathetically, in front of Yanchen, wishing he could take back his words and actions and tears but knowing that wishing is futile. So he just stands. 

Yanchen gets up gingerly. He’s taller than Zeren by quite a bit, so it feels almost natural when he comes close, stands on his toes, and gently rests his chin on Zeren’s head. He puts his arms around his waist and invites Zeren to come closer until his nose is pressed against the hollow of Yanchen’s neck.

“Don’t be dramatic; I wouldn’t have died,” Yanchen says, with a soft laugh. His breath tousles Zeren’s hair and, bewildered, he thinks that it’s comfortable. “But I’ll let you be indignant on my behalf. You’re cute like that, you know?” 

Zeren freezes in their embrace and slowly lifts his head out from under Yanchen’s. “W-what?” 

“I said that you’re cute when you’re indignant on my behalf,” Yanchen repeats, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re cute like this too—look at you, all flustered.” 

“I’m not flustered,” says Zeren, but he feels the heat creep up his neck and into his ears. “I’m just confused.” 

Yanchen laughs, and Zeren thinks that it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. “Well, we can clear that up,” he says. “Ding Zeren, I like you.” 

The world stills. To Zeren, it seems as if everything around them has faded into the background, becoming blurs of colour and light, and all that still remains in sharp focus is Zhou Yanchen’s face. It’s still lined and tired from his ordeal, but the sincerity is there, glistening.

_ Ding Zeren, I like you _ .

Zeren remembers, briefly, the first time he met Yanchen—it was after the auditions. They’d bumped into each other in the halls, and the resulting conversation had been absolutely fascinating. Zeren doesn’t remember what they talked about, but he remembers that they  _ clicked _ . 

As something does now. 

“I like you, too” tumbles out of his lips before he has time to think it over. Zeren knows it’s true though, and another look at Yanchen’s eyes confirms that. 

He likes Zhou Yanchen, the boy who ran to get him ice when he hurt himself, the boy who pulled more laughs out of him with his humour than anyone ever could, the boy who had his back against the dangers of the Frontier, the boy with whom he worked together so well they might’ve been born for it. Zhou Yanchen is the boy he regrets never talking to when they were both training at SM, and the boy with whom he can now talk for hours on end. Zhou Yanchen. 

Yanchen’s mouth opens and closes, and at first Zeren thinks it’s his problem because he can’t hear anything. But the next second Yanchen’s arms are gone from around him and he is sitting back down on his bunk, one hand covering his gaping mouth.

“I had no plans for what was going to happen after that, gods,” he mutters, interspersed with awkward laughs. His ears are bright red. “I thought you’d run away or something.” 

Zeren feels a grin creep onto his face, still burning. “Run away?” he asks. He sounds giddy. “What kind of a thought is that? Me, running away from  _ you _ ?” 

Yanchen buries his face into his hands, his shoulders heaving. “Goodness, I don’t know. You’re so stupid, you know that?” 

“Says you,” Zeren retorts. “The next time you pull something like today, I—I’ll do it with you.” 

Yanchen looks up. “You wouldn’t.” 

“I would.” He crosses his arms, emboldened by the challenge. “I like you, Zhou Yanchen. And I’m going to make sure you know that.” 

Yanchen’s entire face is flushed, now, and that brilliant white grin stands out starkly against the red of his skin. He stands up again and takes a step closer to him. This time, it’s Zeren who takes the lead, and it’s Zeren who stands on his toes to reach. 

“Did you see this in the future?” he whispers against Yanchen’s lips, into Yanchen’s mouth. 

A soft laugh tickles his cheeks in response. 

“No, only in my dreams.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok that was cheesy as fuck but we got it done woooo


	13. get outta my head (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get outta my head—lin yanjun  
> all dilemmas end here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second half of this chapter (zhengting's) actually starts before the events of chengcheng's part if we're talking chronology. just thought it'd make it clear. enjoy!

_“This is as much as we can do about the photos_.”

Fan Chengcheng recalls receiving that verdict from a plastic folding chair at one end of a long table. Zhang Yixing and the rest of the mentors had sat along both sides of the table, each looking a different degree of apologetic. Jin Au-yeung kept muttering reassurances to him from his right, as did Cheng Xiao. Li Ronghao and Zhang Yixing’s expressions were unreadable. And Zhou Jieqiong peered at him through long, dark lashes, and Chengcheng could not help but feel that something was _off_ with her. 

_The two men who attacked you will be prosecuted, and the web has been scrubbed to the best of our abilities,_ Zhang Yixing had said, not unkindly. _But unfortunately, it’s likely people have saved the photos elsewhere. It wouldn’t be realistic to expect the images to be gone._

_It’s okay,_ Chengcheng remembers responding, hollowly. After all, what was there for him to do? _Thank you._

When Justin had heard, he’d been furious and has since then borrowed Bu Fan’s phone to report every single instance of the images’ circulation he could find, checking websites and keywords that even the programme team missed. Chengcheng appreciates the support, he thinks, but he feels more guilty than anything else. Once again, Justin has stayed up well into the early morning and done for him more than anything Chengcheng could do in return. 

_I’m so sorry,_ Chengcheng apologized profusely, but Justin had just looked at him funny. 

_Why the hell are you sorry? It’s not your fault._

_I know. I’m sorry for making you do this._

_Clearly you_ don’t _know, because you didn’t_ make _me do anything,_ Justin had said, in a very smooth, natural tone. _Don’t worry about it, Fan Chengcheng. Go practice, or get some sleep. Get ready for the challenge._

He had almost heeded Justin’s advice, but as he prepared to leave for the training room something hit him out of nowhere—he couldn’t. Maybe once upon a time, he would have been content with letting Justin or whoever else clean up his mess while he continued doing whatever it was he was doing—hiding, probably. Hiding from every word and suspicious look while his teammates picked up his slack and his family sighed from behind their own glowing public images. 

But now, there’s nowhere to hide and he almost thinks he doesn’t want to, anymore. 

The night before challenge day he tries not to cry but the crossroads he finds himself at makes it difficult. So he locks himself inside the fourth floor broom closet at three in the morning with knees tucked in close to his chest and his head buried in them. His eyes remain dry until he leaves at seven to meet his teammates, Bei Honglin, Li Junyi, and Qin Junyi at the cafeteria. 

Challenge day has now arrived.

“Get enough sleep?” Li Junyi asks, all gentle and grandfatherly. The other trainees call him uncle. “It doesn’t look like it.” 

Chengcheng grins weakly. “No,” he admits, “but I promise, I won’t let you guys down.” 

Bei Honglin claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll do just fine.” 

The Simulacrum is a blur. Chengcheng remembers loading in, and after that the only unmarred segment of his memory is full of the blue light of his fox’s orb and an inexplicably liberating sensation that leaves him numb, even as the Sim concludes and he is walking out of the Studio with his teammates cheering beside him. 

The evaluators are waiting in the dim adjoining room, sitting around a table with plastic folding chairs, not unlike his last audience with them. 

“Excellent work, trainees,” Zhang Yixing says, on behalf of all the mentors present. “You’ve exceeded all our expectations.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Chengcheng bows at the waist, his teammates following suit. When he straightens again, he sees Zhou Jieqiong watching him with a bemused look.

“That was certainly… interesting, Trainee Fan Chengcheng,” she says insinuatingly. “With some proper training, those skills would make you exceptional in the field. More so than you already are, of course.” 

Chengcheng doesn’t know if he should feel flattered or uncomfortable. _You just used your abilities on live television, goddamn it. Try to feel something_ , he tells himself. It’s time he owned his inheritance rather than run away from it. But he’s still numb. 

“Are you suggesting something, Teacher?” he blurts out. 

She grins at his audacity. “Maybe I am, but I won’t hold you up, now—there are statements you need to make to the press just outside this room, and I wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.” 

The four of them are ushered on. Qin Junyi looks at Chengcheng incredulously once they’re in the hall. 

“If I’m not wrong, Zhou Jieqiong wants to train you personally,” he says, in a hushed, awed tone. 

Chengcheng laughs dismissively but something flutters inside him at the notion even if it feels wrong. “No way. I’m not actually a fox, Junyi.” 

“You’re as close as a guy can get,” says Bei Honglin. “Well, Lin Yanjun’s pretty damn close, too, but that’s beside the point.” 

In the interviewing room, the questions begin generically. Why did you choose a tactics challenge? What hurdles did you need to overcome during training? Were there times your team came into conflict? How did you resolve the conflict? The four of them answer like they’d prepared beforehand but, really, they’re just too used to hearing the same things over and over again. 

And then Li Junyi, Bei Honglin, and Qin Junyi are sent out of the room and it’s just Fan Chengcheng, alone against what seems to be an army of cameras and microphones and people waiting for him to slip up. 

But he’s done slipping up. 

“So, Chengcheng,” the woman wearing the mask begins, “would you be able to respond to the allegations being spread about you amongst the viewers of _NINE_ and the general public? If you are comfortable with it, that is.” 

The interviewer makes no reference to the incident, and Chengcheng’s glad. Legal matters would be a minefield. 

_Actually, everything’s a minefield_ , he thinks, then swallows. No, no more running away. He breathes in.

“Yes, of course.” 

“Wonderful,” the woman says. She scans a clipboard. “There has been much confusion over your skill set and your lineage, ever since your performance in the group evaluations. Would you be able to clarify for our viewers your…” 

“Species?” Chengcheng finishes. The interviewer nods, a little unwillingly. “I’m human. I know there have been people who think I’m a huli jing, like my mom and sister. They’re wrong, because the fox blood is only inheritable through the female line, and I am no exception to that. 

“I was born a human. I do not have a fox form. The foxfire, admittedly, is a little bit odd, but nothing out of the ordinary if you compare it to what witches can do.” 

The interviewers all write that down. “So you would liken yourself to a witch, then?” 

He swallows again. “If that’s the easiest way to put it.” 

Chengcheng leans back in his stool as far as he dares as he waits for the next question. He thinks he might fall. He feels lighter than he has in weeks. 

Outside of the interviewing room, he finds that his teammates have dispersed back to the Studio, presumably to watch the remaining Simulacrums of the evening. Chengcheng hurries back, too, reminded by the fact. Justin hasn’t had his turn yet, and he will be running the last Sim of the night. 

“Justin!” he calls across the Studio. He sees the boy lined up with the rest of his team, preparing for their turn. 

“Chengcheng,” Justin answers, stepping away from his team. Up closer, he is a ball of nervous energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “You did great, man.” 

“Thanks.” Chengcheng jogs up to him and, before he can react, wraps him in a bear hug. “You will, too.” 

Justin pauses momentarily before returning the embrace. “You okay?” he asks, softly so that only Chengcheng can hear. 

“I don’t know,” says Chengcheng. He’s being honest. 

Justin pulls out of the hug. “I’m really proud of you,” he says.

“What business do you have, being proud of me?” Chengcheng finds himself laughing. “You’re younger.” 

“But I’m more mature.” Justin grins. “You’re a handful, you know that?” 

“I know.” 

Chengcheng opens his arms again, and when he folds Justin back into them he feels better than he has in a long, long time.

* * *

Justin collapses onto his bunk with a loud groan. Zhu Zhengting comes out of the washroom at the commotion, concerned. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks the youngest member of his team. In the months since _NINE_ began, rarely could something get Justin down. 

“Cai Xukun’s a fucking maniac, that’s what,” he complains through his pillow. “Who the hell trains like that?” 

Zhengting frowns. “What did I say about language?”

Justin mimics his tone. “When did I ever care?” 

Zhengting sighs. “How can I help you?” 

“Tell Cai Xukun that I won’t be of any use if I’m dead,” Justin grumbles, rolling over to lie on his back. “If you have time, you should come and sit in on our practice tomorrow. You’ll see for yourself. I’m starting to see where the things you say about him come from.” 

“I took all of those back.” Zhengting shakes his head quickly in protest. “I told you, I was wrong about him.” 

“True. You said that he had a stick up his ass, not that he’s a fucking psycho.”

When Zhu Zhengting first arrived at Dachang two months ago, he saw Cai Xukun and swore to despise him as he does all those who take their power and privilege for granted. He wanted nothing to do with the dragonling except to, in front of all the world, prove that a superior lineage and proud features are nothing in the face of true effort. 

Now, he can't get Cai Xukun out of his head, and it isn't for reasons he enjoys. 

For one, he feels terrible—Cai Xukun is not an asshole, just a little socially inept (no disrespect intended), and who's Zhengting to blame him for that? And it doesn’t stop there; his re-evaluation of Xukun at Wang Ziyi's behest led him to a startling discovery about himself—in his self-declared quest to defeat those he believes to be like his parents, full of bullshit about species and superiority, he's become the very people he loathes, quick to judge and assign labels. That needs to change, and he’s been putting in the effort to make amends. 

For another, Cai Xukun is mesmerizing.

It's as if, at some unknown point in time, Zhengting swapped his disdain for a pair of rose-tinted glasses for the express purpose of watching the dragonling’s every move, and the way admiration replaced derision in a heartbeat throws him off more than he's willing to even privately acknowledge. 

He says it's to watch Justin train and give him advice, as his leader (and, honestly, his surrogate mother), but he could never admit aloud that his eyes spend as much time on Xukun's powerful, decisive movements as they do Justin's, or perhaps even more.

"Don't you have somewhere to be, ge?" Justin asks him, once he slips into their training room the second day in a row. "Your own team, for example?" 

"I’m here for _you,_ " he retorts, taking a seat in the corner of the room, out of the simulator's reach. "Stop being ungrateful." 

Justin looks at him skeptically. "That was yesterday." 

"And I'm here to take a look at your progress." Zhengting is praying that Justin doesn't call his bluff, because he knows deep down what the real reason is. "Besides, my team is doing fine." 

"Last I checked Li Xikan was having a meltdown because he couldn't keep up with you guys." 

"Xu Kaihao is helping him." 

Wang Ziyi chooses now to walk into the room, drawing their attention to him, thank the gods. "Zhengting! Nice to have you with us again."

"Hi, Ziyi." Zhengting greets him with a smile and a wave. "How are things coming along?" 

"Just fine. You here to watch Justin again?" 

"Yup." The lie comes easier the more times he tells it.

Justin still doesn't buy it, though. "Zuo Ye was also telling me about how he needed help, you know."

"Zuo Ye needs help?" Cai Xukun follows Ziyi into the training room, acknowledging Zhengting's presence with nothing but a nod. "Which team is he on, again?" 

"Zhengting's."

"And how are we feeling about things?" Xukun asks. 

"I wouldn't mind a break." Bu Fan makes his entrance, grumbling a little. "We've been training sixteen hours a day, Kunkun." 

Zhengting listens to the exchange incredulously. Xukun would let someone call him _Kunkun_ ? It's hard to believe, even though it's Bu Fan, who calls half the trainees _baby_. Just how badly could Zhengting have misjudged him? 

"Then you guys can set the pace today," he says, turning back towards the door. "I'll join in later. I told Zuo Ye I'd help him when I had the time." 

With that, he leaves the way he had come. A silence falls over the remaining four in the room until Justin breaks it with an unrestrained laugh, bending backwards with his hands over his stomach. Zhengting joins in eventually, the irony of it all hard to deny, as Ziyi and Bu Fan look on, completely lost. 

He watches them practice for half an hour. Between Simulacrums, Justin shoots him smug glances and barely concealed snickers while _Just my fucking luck_ runs through Zhengting's head without pause. After unwillingly correcting Justin's form a couple of times, Zhengting bids them goodbye and returns to his team's training room, in hopes that Xukun might be there with Zuo Ye. 

"Hey, Zhengting-ge," Zuo Ye chirps when he sees him. The aforementioned dragonling is nowhere in sight. "Kun-ge came and showed me some moves. Want me to show you?" 

"Did he leave already?" Zhengting asks. 

"Yeah, just now." 

Zhengting holds back a frustrated sigh. "Okay, Zuo Ye. Show me what you learned." 

Cai Xukun, admittedly, isn't a bad teacher. Zuo Ye's demonstration of a new, beautifully choreographed attack routine perfect for fending off Frontier serpents is testament to that. For some reason, it makes Zhengting more upset, and his teammates skirt around him for the rest of the day. _Somehow this guy is all pluses, now._

That night, he sees Xukun in the cafeteria, sitting with Qian Zhenghao, Zhou Rui, and Wang Ziyi. He wants to join them, but there really is no good reason for him to—their table is essentially full, and Zhengting would have his entire team questioning his decision, which is the last thing he wants. After all, he's denying it still, and he doesn't need six obnoxious kids (okay, maybe he should give Wenjun more credit than that) breathing down his neck about it. 

The rest of the week passes like that. Zhengting wants to watch Cai Xukun practice. He doesn't. Zhengting wants to talk to Cai Xukun. He doesn't. Zhengting wants to talk _about_ Cai Xukun. He almost does, but doesn't. Justin would never give him the time of day again if he did. 

On the day of the evaluations, Xukun's team blows him out of the water, and it's not just because they're the final group. They are so put together, and the display of power is greater than anything Zhengting has seen from any of them, even Justin, and he thought he knew Justin's tricks better than anyone. He mercilessly sweeps through Frontier beasts like they're saplings in a hurricane, his psychic power a shockwave felt even by the audience. _They grow up so fast._

Wang Ziyi lives up to his reputation for ruthless efficiency. Bu Fan is a support powerhouse, covering all the holes in their formation. And Cai Xukun is a firestorm one moment, a tsunami the next, an earthquake when the situation calls for it. He is all wild power held barely in check by an iron resolve, and Zhengting doesn't think he's ever seen anything like it before.

"This isn't the Exodus yet, but he'll give you a run for your money, won't he?" he hears Jackson Wang tell Zhang Yixing, chuckling. "Give him a few years."

After they're finished and the fifty-nine trainees present corralled into an area where a temporary stage has been constructed, Zhengting hurries off to give them his congratulations. He wraps Justin in a bone-crushing hug, spouting incoherent pride. 

"I get it, Zhengting," Justin chokes out, smacking his arm. "You're not half bad yourself." 

"'Not half bad?'" Zhengting lets him go and quirks an eyebrow in question. "Wanna say that again?"

"Did I say that? I meant amazing."

Zhengting laughs. He turns to the others in the team and beams at them. "You guys all did great! Thanks for taking care of Justin." His eyes linger on Xukun a little longer than they should, because _fuck why does he look so good in this getup?_ It’s almost as if the navy blue tactics uniform was made just for him. 

"Justin took care of himself just fine," Xukun says, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You did well, too. I wouldn't put first place in combat past you tonight." 

The praise sends a shocked thrill running through Zhengting from head to toe. He still feels electrified as he returns to his team, and all through the announcement of rankings. When he's announced in first place, he feels as if he's floating. 

His team does spectacularly overall, although it does come as a bit of a surprise to him. Wenjun manages to tie in first place with the main navigator from Trainee18, You Zhangjing, a full, _cathartic_ siren where Wenjun is only half generative. Chengcheng's performance must have been nothing short of amazing (Zhengting had to miss it in order to get his own team ready), because he takes first in tactics solidly, a welcome surprise given his condition in the past week. Zeren is first place in his team and ranks quite high overall in combat. Justin does the same in tactics, Xinchun the same in navigation, and Quanzhe isn't far behind.

He wonders if this is what it's like to be a proud parent, and decides that even if it isn't, he'll give his children the feeling he never got to enjoy. After all the rankings are announced, Zhengting gathers them from their respective teams into a Yuehua group hug. "I'm so proud of you guys," he gushes.

He holds up his hands for high-fives. They're returned enthusiastically. Zhengting retracts stinging palms, grinning. 

"You did great too, ge," says Justin. "Especially that move near the end, you know? The part where you do a flip and cut the wolf Gatekeeper to pieces?" 

"Sexy," Xinchun agrees, with a smirk. 

Zhengting pounces on him in they way he used to all the time in the Yuehua dorms. "Not appropriate, Huang Xinchun!” he scolds him, if only to look for an excuse for his actions. “Who's been teaching you these things? Is it that Lu Dinghao?" 

"Ge, give it a rest," Xinchun protests. "I'm twenty!" 

Wenjun clears his throat. "They're fucking, by the way." 

Zhengting's eyes go wide and round as saucers, and seeing the same way Xinchun's do is more than enough proof that Wenjun is telling the truth. _"Huang Xinchun!"_

"Fuck you, Bi Wenjun!" Xinchun wails. "How do you even know? You're not even in our dorm!" 

"Wait, you've been doing it in _our_ dorm?" Justin and Chengcheng demand loudly and in unison. 

Zhengting can feel the heads around them turn their direction, and for good reason: Justin and Chengcheng have tackled a furiously red Xinchun to the ground, Wenjun stands off to the side with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and Quanzhe is squatting in a corner with his face buried in his hands. His shoulders are shaking, and whether it’s because he’s crying or laughing, no one can be sure. The only one who hasn't joined in their antics is Ding Zeren, who wears a smile that Zhengting can tell immediately is fake. 

He walks up to Zeren and slings an arm over his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?" 

Zeren looks at him, and there is anger—no, _fury_ —in his eyes. Zhengting lets go and steps back, startled by the intensity. 

"Nothing," he says. 

"No, something's on your mind," Zhengting presses. "Tell me what it is." 

"Everything's wrong with this fucking show," Zeren spits, obliging him. The animosity softens a little bit when he sees Zhengting's expression, which must be a mix of shock and confusion. "Sorry. Don't get me wrong, ge, I'm glad you got first place. But Zhou Yanchen almost died this morning, and he didn't even rank as well as _I_ did. If this is how decisions are made, what are we even here for?"

Zhengting's mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out, so he lets Zeren continue. 

"I'm not any better than Yanchen-ge, and I sure as hell didn't work harder than him. And let's face it—neither did you, neither did Fan Chengcheng or Bi Wenjun or anyone else. But the Yuehua name is just going to carry us to the Frontier, isn't it?

"We were wrong, Zhengting," he says bitterly. "This isn't a contest where how well you can fight or how straight you can shoot matters. The only things that matter are if it's Du Hua or Wang Sicong behind you with their clout and cash.

"This place is a farce, and I'm not sure I want to be a part of it anymore."


	14. get outta my head (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get outta my head—lin yanjun  
> my mouth is full of bitter salt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like my ot12 heart shows

Chen Linong is still walking with a bit of a limp the day after the specialization evaluations, and he hopes it isn’t too noticeable to the cameras. It’s not of much use, he knows; even if the media doesn’t zero in on his limp they’re sure to notice that no matter what he does, he can’t force the smile onto his face. 

The challenge had not treated him well at all, and he’s paying the price for it now. A messed up ankle, exhausted powers, and a damaged reputation. 

He slumps into the seat next to Xu Kaihao unceremoniously. “Morning.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine today?” Kaihao raises an eyebrow. “Is it still the leg?” 

“A little.” Linong shrugs. He doesn’t want to say that his ego hurts more. 

The room quiets when Zhang Yixing walks in with a microphone in hand. All around him, trainees stand up to acknowledge the commander, some even bowing at the waist. Kaihao helps Linong stand up quickly with the rest of them. 

“You guys don’t need to do that every time I walk into a room,” Yixing says, chuckling. “Maybe when you first started, sure, but you’ve been here for almost three months. You can be a bit more comfortable.” 

The trainees sit. Yixing takes his place behind a podium temporarily erected for him. 

“I’m here to talk to you guys today because in a week, another round of eliminations will be taking place,” he begins seriously, all previous lightness gone. “Your numbers will go from sixty to thirty-five, and many of you here right now will no longer be joining us the next time a lecture happens in this room.”

There is a round of uneasy murmurs, as is the custom for such announcements. Yixing waits for it to die down a little, perhaps for effect, before continuing on. 

“That being said, I have some experience I’d like to pass on to all of you, whether or not you make it past the week,” he says. “As you all know, I am a member of EXO, and have been since 2012. 

“The reality is, beyond  _ NINE _ , the actual Frontier is your goal. Simply succeeding here means nothing if you find no success in the field. This is something I know well and, with that in mind, I want to tell you about the Exodus.” 

Linong sucks in a breath, as do many of the other contestants. EXO’s 2015 expedition to the Frontier is famously dubbed the Exodus, and is considered the most successful foray into the Frontier in recent years. During the Exodus, EXO’s team of ten became the first to see what is beyond the outermost limits of the First Ring, the region of the Frontier all exploration teams are currently trying to breach. None have found the same success as EXO, yet, and the story remains the stuff of legends among those who aspire to the same achievements.

“The Exodus wasn’t all the glory the press made it out to be,” says Yixing, cutting through their awe. His eyes sweep the room and, suddenly, his words carry much more weight. 

_ Those are the eyes of someone who’s been to hell and back, _ Linong realizes. 

“We almost died,” he goes on. “Multiple times. It was the first and only time anyone’s ever had to fight a real wyvern and it almost took Zitao’s leg and Jongdae’s eye with it.” The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “And that wasn’t the worst of it. We got so hopelessly lost in the Labyrinth that we considered killing ourselves when there weren’t things out to kill us. 

“You guys are luckier than we were. You will be better prepared, and more work has been done now than ever before. Whoever comes after you will be luckier still.

“I believe in your potential—all of you. While only nine of you will make it to Team Nine, don’t ever stop striving for the Frontier if it’s what you believe in. It is the existence of people like you and I that drive advancement and spur change in a society that has become too idle. 

“It is upon our blood, sweat, and tears that new discoveries are made. All of you are here because you think that it’s worth it. And let me tell you—it is. Beyond  _ NINE _ , there is a world of opportunity, and I encourage you to take it.”

The room is silent for a moment, waiting for his next words. When it seems clear that Yixing is finished, the trainees burst into applause and exclamations of thanks and agreement. Linong claps along with the rest of them, but something about Yixing’s words open wider the hole of doubt inside of him that has been growing steadily the past few weeks. 

He’s just a small-town, Taiwanese boy lured into the industry by the prospect of quick cash, which he got. Now that he’s here, and  _ close _ to the Frontier by all accounts of current standings, he has no idea if risking his life for scientific advancement and the millions behind their screens observing the sport is what he really wants. 

Maybe it’s the possibility of death that gives him pause. Maybe it’s that none of this has ever really been his choice, driven by anger and desperation as he was. 

But can he really back out now? 

“Earth to Linong?” he hears Kaihao’s voice. He glances at his friend, who is now standing. The rest of the contestants are filing out of the room, onto the next stage of their day. “We’re going to get evaluation assignments now.” 

“Oh.” 

He accepts Kaihao’s extended hand and stands, limping after him towards the door. The next stage of the contest is a summative assessment of all their skills in a team and terrain determined to be most suited to their strong points, and also the first Simulacrum that is to last several hours. It’s intended to evaluate their best possible potential and discern the most favourable situations for each trainee, culminating in another factor to consider for the final Team 9 decision. 

Linong finds himself assigned to the fourth group with eleven others, and he’s relieved that there are friends among them. Lin Yanjun and Lin Chaoze from Trainee18 are present, and others such as Ling Chao, Mu Ziyang, and Yue Yue from Qin’s Research and Qin Fen from OACA have all been easy to get along with. 

He looks at each of his teammates in turn. Why are all of them at Dachang? Why do they want to explore the Frontier? He wonders if now is a good time to ask, as all those who aren’t familiar get to know each other. 

A part of him thinks—no, hopes—that someone can convince him that what he’s doing is worth it. 

* * *

The teams are formed through popular vote influenced by evaluator recommendation. 

_ If that’s the case, then how the hell did this team go through? _

Wang Ziyi scans the room to make sure he isn’t hallucinating or anything of the sort. His team is Team Two, and the only word he can summon to describe it is  _ stacked _ . Or maybe  _ overkill _ . 

What little he’s heard from the outside world tells him that every member of the four affectionately dubbed  _ four of a kind _ —Zhu Zhengting, Justin Huang, Fan Chengcheng, and Cai Xukun—are members of this team, in addition to other exceptional talents like Zheng Ruibin, Qian Zhenghao, Ding Zeren, Zhou Yanchen, and Zhu Xingjie. 

“This is one hell of a team,” he says to Xukun, who is scrutinizing each and every trainee in the room with an eye he recognizes as evaluating. “What do we do if no one here gets eliminated?” 

He asks this because while they’re a team of twelve now, only seven can ultimately participate in the challenge, which is to take place after eliminations. The others who remain after the cuts must be reallocated to other groups, which may be short members thanks to those who departed. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” says Xukun. “For now, let’s just focus on getting familiar with the challenge.”

Each team has been given a map for this challenge, and their objective is to conquer all the roadblocks along the way. While they won’t be given any hints as to what creatures they may encounter, they are given the terrains they will have to navigate and can prepare from there. 

“We’ll actually need to prepare more gear this time,” says Zhu Zhengting, crouched over the map on the floor. “We got a part of the First Ring.” 

“I think we can divide up the tasks,” suggests Zhou Yanchen. He seems fully recovered from his previous ordeal now, much to everyone’s relief. “Some people can work out what we need to bring and other people come up with strategy for navigation. Is anyone here actually a navigational main?” 

Ziyi sees Qian Zhenghao raise his hand tentatively. “My focus has always been navigation.” 

Yanchen gives him a blinding grin. “Great! Why don’t we put you on that, and you’re a navigator, too, right?” 

He looks at Chen Minghao, who seems absolutely lost in this crowd. Ziyi sympathizes, remembering when his own teammates told him that the trainees that Ziyi hangs out with, like Cai Xukun and Zhou Rui, are  _ intimidating. _ It isn’t that their personalities are particularly imposing, per se, but rather the differences they perceive between their levels of skill that throws them off. If Ziyi has to be honest, even he’s felt some semblance of intimidation since coming to Dachang. It’s a foreign feeling when you hail from a family that takes (too much) pride in being at the top of the social ladder. 

“S-sure,” says Minghao. “I’d love to help in whatever way I can.” 

Next, they move onto discussing tactics. Ziyi remembers when he was wary of entering that department, because to be honest, it never seemed a concrete skill to him. Once he joined a team, however, he discovered why it’s a necessary role; people who specialize in tactics spend months and years working on how best they can respond to every situation imaginable and how to call the perfect shots in a heartbeat in a completely unpredictable environment. He doesn’t think he’s there yet, but he’s working on it.

“I think we’re pretty decent in tactics,” Zhengting says. His eyes sweep through the ranks of trainees, and Ziyi is glad to see that he no longer glares daggers at Xukun every time he sees him. In fact, his gaze seems to linger on him, and not in a negative way. Ziyi isn’t sure what he thinks of that, so he opts not to think much about it at all. 

“I agree,” announces Xukun. Zhengting’s look of surprise is almost funny. “We’re strong in tactics. I think what we can do is work on our combat so that we’re used to moving as a group.” 

Ziyi can’t help but nod and smile. This Xukun is such a far cry from the lone wolf he met at the beginning of the programme, and he likes to think he contributed to that. 

“Does that sound good to everyone?” asks Justin. “Qian Zhenghao and Chen Minghao can work out routes, and Chengcheng and I can get started on gear. Everyone else can spar for the time being?” 

The group responds with affirmatives and begins on their respective tasks. They spar in rotational pairs first, getting a grasp of how they all fight. Ziyi’s first partner is Ding Zeren of Yuehua, and  _ gods, this kid can fight _ . Ziyi ducks under a lightning-fast jab just in time, wondering just how the hell SM and Yuehua train their Frontier teams to have them turn out like this. 

After the three minutes are up, he gives Zeren a high-five and moves onto Li Rang, then Zhou Yanchen. The CNK trainee is not quite as polished in his combat skills, but is quick on his feet and smart. Yanchen he’s worked with before, during the first group evaluations, but in this short time he’s improved so much Ziyi has to be surprised. 

“Damn, it’s like you never had to go to the hospital or anything like that.” Ziyi whistles, after they’re finished. 

Yanchen just grins. “I  _ over _ worked myself, not underworked. If I didn’t get any better from that, then what was it all for?” 

“You make it sound like you might do it again.” Zeren swoops in on their conversation, slinging a protective arm over Yanchen’s shoulders. Something in the way the two look at each other has changed since Yanchen’s incident, Ziyi notes, but decides against commenting on it. “I swear to all the gods, if you do pull something so fucking dumb again-” 

“I know, you’ll do it with me,” Yanchen finishes, still smiling. “I can’t have that, so I promise it won’t happen again.” 

They move on. Ziyi’s next partner is Cai Xukun, and they’re both familiar enough with the other’s style that the fight is almost even. Xukun has always been a little better, Ziyi knows, but he thinks that he’s closing that gap. 

Then he spars with Zhu Zhengting. 

The only thought that runs through his mind for an entire three minutes is  _ holy hell this guy is even better than I thought what the fuck- _

“Gods, Zhengting,” he breathes. “Calm down.” 

Zhengting pouts a little bit. “Sorry. I’m stressed out.” 

“And you think you’ll be less stressed if you put Ziyi in a headlock?” Justin quips, returning to the room with an armful of supplies. 

“Headlocks aren’t even practical for us,” Chengcheng adds. “How’re supposed to put a snake in a headlock when they’re just one big, long neck?” 

Zhengting bursts out laughing. “Fan Chengcheng, you need to think about what comes out of your mouth.” 

Ziyi chuckles, too.

They practice like that well into the evening. From time to time, trainees from other teams poke their heads in to see why it’s so loud in Room Two, and they would discover it’s either that Qian Zhenghao is running from Zhu Zhengting, who is after his round cheeks, or that Zeren tripped over Chengcheng who tripped over Justin who tripped over his own feet when he had to escape Zhu Xingjie after calling him  _ Huba _ one too many times. 

By the end of the third day with this team, Ziyi feels like he’s known everyone forever. That’s why when Xukun asks him to take a walk with him, he for once feels a little bit reluctant. 

“Hey bro, what’s up?” he asks the dragonling as they settle into an empty room. “You look like something’s on your mind.” 

“That’s because something is,” says Xukun. “Remember when we talked about what we would do if—no,  _ when _ —no one on this team gets eliminated?” 

Ziyi recalls the conversation and nods. 

“Well, I have a suggestion,” Xukun goes on. “Let’s leave.” 

“Leave?” he repeats. “Isn’t it a voting system?” 

Xukun shrugs. “We can just tell everyone to vote us out. But Zhenghao needs to stay on this team."

It dawns on Ziyi what Xukun is thinking. Qian Zhenghao has been struggling to keep up with the rest of them in the combat department. He will not be able to adjust as well as he and Xukun can if he gets moved to another team. 

“Are you sure we’re the ones who have to make room for him?” Ziyi asks, still pensive. “I mean, there are a couple of people who may not make it.” 

“From what I can tell, everyone will definitely make it, save maybe Chen Minghao. I’m not sure about standings with the crowd but the mentors will save Li Rang without a doubt if he isn’t popular enough,” Xukun says, his voice ringing with undeniable reason. “If you don’t want to leave, I can. Just promise me you’ll vote Zhenghao as your top pick for the team. Please.” 

Ziyi looks Xukun in the eyes, which are stormy and determined, and realizes that it’s impossible for him to say no. Even if he wants to let Xukun go alone, which he doesn’t.

“I’ll go with you,” he says. “You’re right. We need to guarantee that Zhenghao stays on this team, and I don’t think anyone from Yuehua would separate themselves in the vote. It has to be us.” 

Xukun sighs, obviously relieved. “Thanks, Ziyi.” 

Ziyi smiles, but the corners of his mouth fall back when something else occurs to him. “What about you, Xukun? You shouldn’t push yourself too much, either.” 

“I know my limits,” Xukun responds shortly. “I can handle a switch. Zhenghao might not be able to.” 

Ziyi purses his lips, thinking of a very narrow encounter with an attack of Xukun’s tri-lineage incompatibility only two nights ago. They had been training together and the room had suddenly become very cold—it took a few moments for him to realize that it was  _ Xukun’s _ energy going all over the place, and the dragonling had not even noticed it. When confronted about it, Xukun had been shocked—he hadn’t missed a dose of medication, the potency of which had just been increased. 

“I know you can,” Ziyi says gently, “but I’m still worried. You said it’s been getting worse.” 

“Not that much,” he argues. “I’ll be okay, Ziyi.” He tries for a smile. “Besides, don’t you think my chances of getting to the Frontier will be better without people like Zhu Zhengting and Fan Chengcheng on the same team as me, competing for attention?” 

“That’s a fair point,” Ziyi admits. “Speaking of Zhu Zhengting, what’s going on with you two? When did he stop hating you?” 

In the past couple of weeks, he’s seen Zhengting get closer and closer to Xukun, and in a way he can’t help but find peculiar. Yes, he tried to get Zhengting to stop hating Xukun for no observable reason, but did he expect…  _ this _ ? Not at all. 

“He apologized to me after the first eliminations,” Xukun recalls, inclining his head. “Since then, we’ve been on okay terms.” 

“Just ‘okay?’” Ziyi is more than a little skeptical. While he’s always known that Xukun hasn’t been very social since coming to Dachang, he’s assumed that the dragonling has at least enough sense to tell when someone is  _ interested  _ in him. “You should see what it looks like from another person’s perspective, bro.” 

Xukun snorts. Clearly, he doesn’t think of it in the same way Ziyi is seeing it. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “I admire Zhengting, maybe even consider him a friend, but I can’t care less about what he actually thinks about me. That’s not what I’m here for, Ziyi.” 

“Then what do you consider the rest of us? Me, Zhou Rui, Zhenghao?” Ziyi can’t help but feel a bit hurt, even though it doesn’t seem to make any sense. If Xukun doesn’t care about them, why would he give up his spot on this team for Zhenghao? Unless it’s all to avoid the competition he undoubtedly would have to face with the best of Yuehua? But Xukun has never been the type to back down from a challenge, and Ziyi doesn’t think that has changed.

Xukun bits his lower lip. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“It’s okay.” Ziyi starts to stand, but Xukun grabs his hand tightly. 

“You guys are my friends,” he says. “But that won’t matter unless I survive the next few months.” 

Ziyi sits back down. Xukun’s expression is, for once, unguarded, and it makes him look younger and more vulnerable than he’s used to. Not for the first time since they met, something inside Ziyi hurts as much as Xukun must be hurting. 

“What are friends for, if not helping you get there?” Ziyi asks softly. “Let us try and help you, Kun.” 

Xukun lets go now that it seems that Ziyi isn’t leaving, sitting back heavily. Their shoulders are touching. “There really isn’t much you can do.” 

“I’m sure we’ll find a way,” says Ziyi. “There are a lot of us, you know. People who care more about you than you’d expect.” 

Xukun arches an eyebrow. “Who?” 

“There’s Zhou Rui, Zhenghao, and I, the obvious ones. And I don’t think you’ve forgotten Zuo Ye.” Ziyi starts rattling off other names. “I’m sure Justin cares, and maybe Bu Fan. Zhou Yanchen’s definitely on your team. And, might I add, Zhu Zhengting. If you’d let him, I’m sure he’ll be a lot of help.” 

Xukun is silent for a while, and Ziyi is afraid he might never talk again until he says, “Thanks.”

Ziyi inclines his head. “What for?” 

Xukun rests his forehead on Ziyi’s shoulder and doesn’t reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i'm taking the linong situation from firewalking and kinda running with it for a bit longer than "canon" lol. also two years later still thinking about ziyi and xukun voting themselves out of dream and my heart is just ldskgkslgj


	15. ashes from fireworks (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ashes from fireworks—hua chenyu  
> i am but the ashes left after a fireworks show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know things 'boutta heat up if i'm using huahua's songs in the chapter titles. pun intended. as to what the pun is, you'll find out :)

_ “Thanks." _

_ “What for?” _

_ Reminding me that life is more than what I’ve been doing with it. _

That’s what Xukun had wanted to say, but even without saying it he knew it would sound stupid. But he thinks that Ziyi understood. 

He takes Ziyi’s words to heart and spends the next training session doing his best to be a  _ friend _ instead of just a teammate to the other members of their group. He doesn’t know if things actually change after that, or if hearing someone else put it into words is what makes him notice it, but people do seem to treat him differently now. 

_ A lot of things are different, now. _ He hears himself laugh unrestrainedly at a terrible joke Justin cracks, picked up from the Banana trainee Lin Yanjun. He finds himself reacting with just as much fervor as the others when Zhu Xingjie recounts the story of getting into a bar fight with his teammate Xiao Gui. The experience is almost foreign—he doesn’t think he’s smiled so much since his time with SWIN, and by the end of the day, it’s not his muscles but his face that’s sore. 

He lingers in the training room after everyone else heads off to the cafeteria for dinner. There’s still too much energy left in him, he thinks, and it would be safer if he burns some of it off in a Simulacrum than keep it bottled up. 

He’s just finished customizing his Sim and about to load in when the door opens again. He thinks maybe it’s Ziyi, here to fuss over the fact that he’s alone, but it’s actually Zhu Zhengting. 

“Aren’t you coming to dinner?” Zhengting asks him. 

The change in their dynamic, recently, has been so extreme it’s almost disorienting. It’s reflected in all their interactions and even when they spar. How does someone go from loathing to being unnecessarily considerate? And how is it that someone who once seemed to oppose everything he did suddenly compliment his movements like no other?

“I want to practice one more time,” he responds. “It’s harder on a full stomach.” 

Zhengting hums in agreement. He takes a step into the room. “Do you want some company?” 

Xukun’s about to say no when Ziyi’s words ring in his head again.  _ He’ll be a lot of help _ . “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’m going for about half an hour.” 

Zhengting shuts the door behind him. “I’m sure. I’m not hungry right now, anyway.” 

Xukun modifies the Simulacrum for another participant. He considers turning down the intensity for just a second, before remembering that Zhu Zhengting is every bit as capable as he is. He’ll keep up. 

“Ready?” His hand hovers over the start button on the simulator. He sees Zhengting nod and presses down. 

Once they’ve both geared up, Xukun hits the  _ Commence _ icon hovering in the air in front of them and the landscape shifts into that of the Shore. Immediately, they’re greeted by a downpour of water, the imaginary weight of the rain plastering Xukun’s hair to his forehead. 

“Great way to start, isn’t it?” he says dryly. 

Zhengting grins at him with a row of straight, white teeth. His eyes land on his face, however, and look away quickly. “It’ll be good practice.” He scans their surroundings. “What’s our objective?” 

“It’s just timed, but I did set a safe place in their First Ring,” he says. “It’s a cave, in valley terrain. That’s why we’re close to the Shroud; this way, we won’t waste too much time with the Shore.”

“Sounds good. Let’s go.” 

Xukun sets off through the simulated rain at a brisk pace, Zhengting keeping up easily with his long, graceful strides. Xukun can’t help but think how utterly at odds they just look; he moves with all the precision and purpose in the world, while Zhengting flows along like water, his easy elegance concealing an affinity for merciless force. 

The first Frontier serpent they encounter they defeat easily. Xukun traps it in a ring of stone and fire while Zhengting only needs to take one shot to put a bullet through its head. There are definitely things he can learn from Zhu Zhengting, he decides, and sends a silent thanks to Wang Ziyi and his suggestions. 

Zhengting seems to know it, too. “How’s that?” he asks over the rain, looking triumphant. 

Xukun can’t help but to return the smile. “Not bad at all.” 

They forge on. They take out two more serpents on the way to the Shroud, from which loud roars rip through the din of the rain.

“Lion Gatekeepers,” Zhengting comments, surprised. “Where did you get copies of those?” 

Xukun curses himself internally for forgetting to modify that particular setting before starting the Sim—he got this Simulacrum from none other than Zhang Yixing himself, and admitting it would be like admitting to preferential treatment from the evaluators, which looks bad no matter how he tries to frame it without explaining that he’s dying. 

“The staff,” he says simply.

Zhengting buys it. “Really? I’ll have to ask to see if they can get me some, too.” 

They’re silent until they can just barely make out the Gatekeepers in the gloom ahead.

“Have you fought lions before?” Xukun asks Zhengting. 

He nods. “A couple of times. What about you?” 

“Same,” he says, not wanting to sound overly pretentious by disclosing that lions have never been much of a stranger to him; back in his days with SWIN, lion variety Gatekeepers were what they trained with most of the time. “It’s better practice than most others.” 

Zhengting nods. “Any strategy you use?” 

He shrugs. “I improvise.” 

Zhengting barks a laugh. “Well, that isn’t always the approach you want with a team.” 

“Seven people is a lot to work with,” Xukun quips back testingly. He’s not sure if Zhengting is just joking or actually being critical. 

“If you keep it up, you’ll have nine,” he responds. “So maybe try calling some shots now.” 

Xukun turns his attention back to what lies ahead of them, eyebrows raised to himself. That Zhengting would imply that he will make Team 9 as the leader and letting him practice that now is something he never would have thought possible only a month ago.

“Correct me where I’m wrong, then,” he says.

He can almost feel Zhengting grin. “You bet.” 

Something flies through the mists of the Shroud towards them. “Duck!” Xukun calls, flattening himself onto the muddy ground as the enormous ball carried by the guardian lion soars over their heads. “Like that?” 

“Like that,” Zhengting agrees, rising onto his knees and wiping the mud off his chin with the back of his hand. “Now, what's next?” 

“I’ll keep the male occupied while you draw away the female,” says Xukun, remembering the strategies he’s learned when it comes to dealing with lion Gatekeepers, which are near impossible to kill. Once the two lions are drawn far enough apart, there will be an opening in their protection through which they can slip into the First Ring. “Get it as far as you can. If it comes to a point where you can’t get it to go any farther, shout and I’ll try and get the male to move.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Zhengting pulls out his pistols just as the embroidered ball flies through the air above them and returns to its owner, still shrouded in haze. “Go now?” 

“Now.” Xukun sprints in the direction the ball had come, and even before he can distinguish the entire lion from the mist, he sees a pair of fierce red eyes in the fog. The male lion lashes out with the paw not occupied by its ball, razor-sharp claws cleaving through the air. Xukun dodges it adeptly, pulling at his powers to draw up the earth around them into a circular cage. 

He chances a glance at Zhengting. The leader of Yuehua avoids the female lion’s attacks with an impossible grace, as if he’s dancing instead of fighting. Slowly, but surely, he’s goading it into following him away. 

Xukun turns his attention back to his own lion. In the interest of efficiency, he decides that he can do the same. Releasing it from its stone cage, he draws his guns and fires off several shots that bounce of its hide and do little more than anger it, but that’s his intention. The lion roars loudly and starts to pursue him as he runs away from it, and away from Zhengting and his lion. 

“Zhengting, come back to centre!” he yells at the top of his lungs. He sees Zhengting, a small figure, turn and start dashing back. 

Xukun presses his heels into the ground to stop himself. The lion is almost upon him and he counts the split seconds to when he can-

-conjure a pillar of stone that erupts through the ground beneath his feet and catapults him over the lion’s head. He lands on its back and jumps off onto the ground, sending up splashes of mud and water. Both lions have turned around now as he sprints for the divide in their barrier, narrowing as they begin to close back in. He sees Zhengting standing just beyond the curtain, eyes wide.

He makes it in. The energy field closes back on itself, rippling, as the lions return to their original positions. 

“Cai Xukun, that was way too close!” Zhengting says, sounding a little exasperated. “What if you hadn’t made it?” 

Xukun doesn’t see the problem, really, save that there’s an annoying curl of fire on his palm that he hasn’t been able to draw back, coupled with a foreboding tingling in his core. He clenches his hand into a fist and draws it into the sleeve of his jacket, hoping that Zhengting hasn’t seen. 

“Then I’d just force the Gatekeepers apart again,” he answers frankly. He’s done it alone before—it really isn’t that difficult. 

Zhengting sighs, but he doesn’t really seem disappointed. He runs a hand through his rain-soaked hair, slicking it back and out of his face. “Where to next?” 

“The cave shouldn’t be too far,” says Xukun. “Let’s look around.” 

Beyond where they stand with the two lions to their backs, Xukun and Zhengting can see over the edge of a cliff to a mess of narrow ravines. The mouth of a large cave is visible on the rock face of one of the gorges. 

Getting there is easier than expected. All Xukun needs to do is create a bridge of ice and stone over the gouges in the earth, and the two of them cross over to the cave unceremoniously. 

“We’ve still another five minutes,” Zhengting says, checking his watch. “What do you want to do?”

He looks to Xukun, who leans against the wall of the cave casually. In actuality, he is doing his best to look casual; he can feel the energy rising up inside him again and struggles to force it back down. Sudden onset isn’t uncommon, he reminds himself—in fact, most of his attacks are sudden. The first major one he experienced in Dachang while practicing with the A-class is an example. 

“We can just take it easy,” he says, relieved that his voice is at least steady. He searches for a conversation starter to draw the attention away from him. “Where did you learn to fight like that? I don’t see anyone else in Yuehua with your style.”

Zhengting sits down on the stone floor with his back to the opposite wall. In the dim light of the cave, shadows pare his face down to darkly attractive angles. “We’re not all Yuehua-trained,” he responds. “Ding Zeren is SM-trained, and Fan Chengcheng’s had some family experience. For me, I’ve been practicing on my own since I was ten. Started with Yuehua a couple years back.” 

Ten. No wonder he’s so good. Xukun isn’t sure how old exactly Zhengting is but he’s guessing in his early twenties. That would be more than a decade of training, two or possibly even three times as much as Xukun’s had. 

“What about you?” Zhengting asks back. “Where did you learn to fight?” 

Xukun swallows. There’s something metallic at the back of his throat, now, and he does his best to ignore it. “SWIN,” he says. “Although my parents have always worked in the Frontier sector, so I never lacked for exposure.” 

At the mention of parents, something seems to dull a little in Zhengting’s eyes, but Xukun doesn’t ask. He’s never been good at reading people, he acknowledges again, and this delicate symbiosis he’s established with Zhengting is too valuable to risk. 

Then, it’s Zhengting who decides to share. “My parents have never been too supportive,” he admits. “Well, my mom was okay with it for a bit until it got so serious.” 

Xukun nods slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

He cringes a little bit. The words sound ingenuine even to him, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus with the pounding demands of the energy inside him. He’s starting to feel lightheaded and it makes him anxious, because what would he do if it shows and Zhu Zhengting asks? 

Red numbers flash over their heads.  _ 10, 9, 8. _ The Simulacrum is almost over.  _ 7, 6, 5. _ Xukun is standing up somewhat unsteadily.  _ 4, 3, 2, 1. _

The Sim fades away as thin red lines, back into the simulator. Xukun stumbles a few steps to the wall, leaning against it on one arm. 

“What’s wrong?” he hears Zhengting ask him, but it sounds far away.

_ Fuck,  _ he has time to think, before he coughs. He instinctively raises one hand up to his lips to cover his mouth, only to feel a wet warmth on his palm that he finds red and sticky.  _ Fuck. _

Something like this has never happened before, and that realization seems to exacerbate the effects. 

“Xukun?” 

There’s heat. 

_ Calm down. Ca- _

He can’t form a coherent thought, and something dark is invading the corners of his vision. He sinks to his knees, his hand still over his mouth and his chest heaving as a part of him manages to wonder if it’s his life that’s trickling through his fingers.

“Xukun!” 

_ Zhengting.  _

There’s red in his darkening vision. He doesn’t know if it’s fire or not but he thinks it is because he feels like he’s burning from the inside out. He turns his head in the direction of Zhengting’s voice and blinks sluggishly as he sees him make his way across the training room towards him, his face a wide, pale circle of shock. 

From somewhere, there comes a loud sound. It might be his name, again, but he isn’t sure. And then more heat and more red and the room is spinning. 

The darkness swallows him whole. 

* * *

The world is on fire. Zhengting is dimly aware of sirens outside the practice room, and trainees shouting to each other as they evacuate the building. The room is filling with billowing black smoke and Zhengting knows he should be getting out, too, but he stays glued to Xukun's side. 

The dragonling is lying on his side now, his eyes closed and hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The hand that had previously covered his mouth has dropped to the floor, sticky with blood, and his chest is heaving hard with every breath. Zhengting hears himself yelling  _ Cai Xukun, get up, don't you fucking die on me _ , as if he is another person. The flames lap at his ankles and he pulls himself closer to Xukun, emptying the nearest bottles of water onto the fire, to no avail. A few drops splash on Xukun's face and the water sizzles and steams on his skin.

The door to the practice room bursts open and, through the smoke, Zhengting can just make out Zhang Yixing's face, tight with panic. A tidal wave of water bursts forth and sweeps the room, clashing with the flames to create clouds of thick white steam that contrast the black smoke. The fire is stubborn, but another wave puts it out completely. Zhengting coughs as the air becomes easier to breathe, and the splash is cool and welcome on his chafing skin. 

"Zhu Zhengting, are you fucking suicidal?" Jackson Wang hisses, following Yixing into the room. Zhou Jieqiong is close behind him with Cheng Xiao. "Explain to me why you didn't haul ass the second this happened." 

Zhengting only shakes his head, words failing him. Zhang Yixing pushes him aside to kneel by Xukun's side, fingers on his jugular, looking for a pulse. 

_ Looking for a pulse.  _ He doesn't know why this sends him into a panic, but Xukun can't be dead. He just can't and Zhengting is about to ask when Yixing says, "He's alive, but he won't be for long unless we stabilize the TLI." 

"TLI?" Zhengting asks, his throat raw. Jackson turns around and glares daggers at him. Under normal conditions, maybe he would've shut up, but he presses on. "Please-"

"Come on, Zhengting." Cheng Xiao's at his shoulder, pulling him gently. There are weak flames spreading across the scorched floor again and he's suddenly aware of the pain in his hands, where the skin is raw and red and blistering. "Let's get that looked at." 

"Is Xukun going to be okay?" he asks.

"We don't know," Yixing admits, his eyebrows knit tightly. "But if you want him to be, start by keeping what you saw here today to yourself. Is that understood?" 

Zhengting nods vigorously and lets Cheng Xiao lead him from the room. 

In the infirmary, he finds Yue Yue shuffling around, looking for gauze. Ling Chao sits on a stool in the corner, waiting, with a nasty gash on his forearm. His eyes light up in curiosity when he sees Zhengting walk in. 

"What happened in Room Two, ge?" he asks. "I heard from Justin you were in there." 

Cheng Xiao nudges him lightly, as a reminder. Zhengting shakes his head. "I don't know," he says. "I'd left by the time the fire started." 

"Then how did you burn your hands?" Ling Chao pushes. 

The lie comes easily to Zhengting, strangely enough. "I tried to go back and get my stuff. Bad idea." 

Ling Chao accepts it without question. Cheng Xiao leads him past the two and to the far medicine cabinet, which is locked. Inside isn't regular first aid—it's rows upon rows of glowing potions. 

"Dragonfire burns are harder to treat," she explains to him quietly, uncorking a blue solution that gives off a faint, blue glow. "This'll do better than regular ointment." 

He accepts the treatment without question. His palms sting madly at first, but there's a cooling sensation afterwards as the potion sinks under his skin. Cheng Xiao wraps his hands up in bandages and tells him to take it easy while they heal, for about a week. 

"Thank you," he says. He looks around the infirmary. Yue Yue and Ling Chao have left. "Can I ask what happened to Xukun?" 

Cheng Xiao purses her lips. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss that." 

"Please," he begs. "I'm worried about him." 

She lays a hand on his shoulder. "I know you must be, Zhengting. But it's not in his best interest for me to tell you."

And like that, three days pass and Zhengting hasn't seen any sign of or heard any news of Cai Xukun. The dragonling's absence wouldn't have eaten at him before, but it does now in a way he can't quite put into words. 

He hates not knowing, and no one is giving him any answers. He hasn't seen Cheng Xiao since the night of the incident, and he's too intimidated to ask Jackson or Yixing. The other mentors have their lips firmly sealed. He's also pestered Wang Ziyi and Zhou Rui (and even Qian Zhenghao) about it, sure that they know things he doesn't, but they too keep their silence. It drives him crazy. 

People have asked  _ him _ , too—Justin and Chengcheng and Yanchen and Zeren and even Zhu Xingjie, who doesn't seem the type to gossip, but he repeats over and over that he doesn't know, that he got the burns from trying to get back into the room. He can tell that his teammates in particular don't buy it, but they eventually stop pressing. 

But now it's the third night since Room Two burst into flames, and Zhengting is tired of waiting. 

"Hey, Justin." He slips over to the younger's bunk, gently nudging him awake. "Come with me."

"What the hell, Zhengting?" Justin mumbles through the covers. 

Zhengting hushes him. "I need your help. It's time to break some rules." 

At this, Justin turns over, eyes alight. "Alright, let's go." 

They sneak out of the dorm quietly, taking care not to rouse Chengcheng or Xinchun. Luckily, they're heavy sleepers. Zhengting and Justin do their best to avoid the cameras and eventually find their way to the fourth floor. 

"Okay, Zhengting. What's the situation?" Justin is clearly excited. "What are we doing?" 

Zhengting takes a deep breath. "I want you to help me find Cai Xukun." 

Justin looks at him, blinks twice, and groans. "Gods, Zhu Zhengting." 

"What?" 

"A month ago you hate this guy with a passion and now you can't live a day without him. You're too damn easy." 

"I just can't stand not knowing what the hell happened that day, okay?" he protests, glad for the darkness that hides from Justin the red that must be colouring his face. 

"So you admit that Cai Xukun was involved," Justin says smugly. "And that you do know things." 

Zhengting sighs, exasperated. "Fine, I'll tell you what I know." Justin inches closer eagerly. "I was practicing with Xukun-" 

"I knew it, ge. I knew you-" 

"Huang Minghao, shut up before I beat your ass." 

Justin shrinks against the wall, stifling snickers. Zhengting continues, "And we'd just finished a pretty intense Simulacrum and I was getting a drink when I saw him leaning against the wall." He swallows, remembering what he saw. "He was covering his mouth with his hand and... and I-I could see blood running between his fingers, so I kind of panic-" 

"Hey, Zhengting." Justin isn't laughing anymore. He reaches out and puts a firm hand on his shaking shoulder. "I'll help you find him. You don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to." 

Zhengting shakes his head. "It's okay. I have to tell someone." He takes another breath. "I kind of panicked, and then I asked him if he was okay. He didn't answer me and just collapsed... and then everything started burning.

"I don't know why, but I just stayed there until the evaluators came. They didn't tell me anything." He presses the heels of his bandaged hands to his eyes. He wants to cry, for some reason; maybe it's because every time he thinks about the incident he sees Xukun fall again, smells the smoke, feels the fire. "I can't take not knowing anymore." 

"Alright, Zhengting," says Justin, "to start, I think Xukun'll be okay." 

"What makes you say that?" 

Justin shrugs. "What you described sounds a lot like dual-lineage incompatibility. A pretty bad case of it, but it usually isn't fatal." 

Zhengting blinks. "What's that, and how do you know this?" 

"It's a condition that dragonlings with more than one bloodline sometimes have," he explains. "Commander Yixing had it; it’s on his public records" 

Zhengting grabs his shoulders. "Tell me more about it." 

"Whoa, calm down, will you?" Justin says. "Basically, the two bloodlines he has clash with each other, and side effects include losing control of abilities. That's probably why the fire started." 

Zhengting thinks about Justin's words for a moment before remembering something he'd heard Zhang Yixing say:  _ He's alive, but he won't be for long unless we stabilize the TLI. _

Dual-lineage incompatibility. TLI. Xukun’s three elements where, normally, a dragonling only has one. It all adds up. He claps a hand over his mouth. "Oh, gods..." 

"Zhengting, what is it?" Justin asks. 

"I think Xukun's got  _ three  _ lineages," he whispers. "Justin, the mentors, they said... they mentioned something called TLI." 

Justin's eyes get wide. "TLI. If DLI means dual-lineage incompatibility... the T stands for 'tri'?" 

"I think so, anyway." Zhengting nods. His mind wanders to the other part of what Yixing said:  _ He's alive, but he won't be for long. _ "Gods, Justin, what if he died? And that's why-" 

"Shh, calm down." Justin suddenly has his arms around him, patting his back gently. Zhengting leans into his teammate, breathing heavily and returning the embrace desperately. "I'm sure Xukun's alive. He's strong, Zhengting, and if he's got three lineages like we think, then he's stronger than all of us. This won't be what gets him." 

"Help me find him," Zhengting pleads. 

Justin nods against his shoulder. "I will. I'll just need one more person." 

"Who?" Zhengting is immediately defensive. "Who can we trust with this?" 

The younger grins. "Ge, if Zhou Yanchen isn't trustworthy, no one in this world is." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few things i wanted to say:
> 
>   * this chapter is one of the earliest i ever conceptualized for the story
>   * as such, i'm kinda attached to distressed zhengting
>   * but please let me know what you think!
>   * and in case it wasn't already kind of obvious lion gatekeepers are inspired by chinese guardian lions!
> 

> 
> see y'all next week :)


	16. ashes from fireworks (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ashes from fireworks—hua chenyu  
> inside me there lives an ancient child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a chapter full of clairvoyant witches and also cat-jun

You Zhangjing looks at his team and feels the same thrill run through him again. Almost all of Dachang’s best navigators are in the same room, and the power he can feel threatens to sweep his senses away. 

There’s Zhou Rui, the ex-Gramarie trainee, the sharp-tongued celestial siren that left no room to doubt his skills. There’s Han Mubo, the generative siren from OACA, kind and attentive and a little overbearing. There’s also Yang Feitong, Li Junyi, Jeffrey Tung, and Bi Wenjun, all powerful talents in their own rights. 

_ This team could find its way out of hell in thirty seconds _ . 

Until, that is, the Simulacrum stumps them all. 

“What the fuck is this?” Zhou Rui looks at the so-called “Labyrinth” prepared for them. “This isn’t navigation—this is just  _ whoever the hell is skinny _ .” 

“Calm down, Rui-jie,” entreats Hu Zhibang. Bangbang, as they all call him, is a cute kid who’s lived most of his life overseas, and also the only person in this Sim that can call Zhou Rui ‘Rui-jie’ without getting slapped. “There might be some other way to enter the maze we haven’t found yet.” 

Zhangjing regards the dark, narrow passage before them. Not even Ling Chao from Qin’s Research would be able to slip through something like that, he thinks, and brute force isn’t the point with a team like theirs. There has to be another way. 

By the fifth day of practice, they’ve found at least three routes into the labyrinth, all of them culminating in yet another tiny crack in the stone that no one save Han Yongjie, who can turn into a mouse, can get through. And unfortunately for them, Han Yongjie is likely going to be eliminated before their actual evaluation date. 

“At this point, the first person to find a way that actually  _ works _ can be our leader  _ and _ point, for all I care,” Zhangjing proposes to the rest of the team. They all laugh (a bit bitterly) and agree to keep working on it in the morning. 

Back in his dorms, Lin Chaoze and Lu Dinghao are getting ready for bed. Bei Honglin is already sleeping, Zhangjing thinks, until he sees the mound of blankets quivering slightly. Zhangjing purses his lips. Honglin has always been the most sensitive out of all of them, and he must’ve gotten another look at his ranking. They all know that he may not make it past the next round of eliminations, but by now there’s really not much left to do but wait for the results. 

“How’d it go for you guys today?” asks Chaoze, coming out of the washroom with wet hair. Trainee18’s leader is concerned, as always. “Did you find a way?” 

“Nope.” Zhangjing flops onto his bunk. “We will eventually, though; I don’t think it’s possible to create a Labyrinth none of us can get through. It’s just a matter of time.”

Chaoze hums in acknowledgement. “A fair assumption. Did you want to hear something funny?” 

“Sure.” 

“Lin Yanjun’s leader for our team.” 

Zhangjing sits up, gaping. “Are you serious?”

“Yup. I told them I didn’t want to be leader, and Yanjun said he did,” Chaoze explains, clearly satisfied with his surprise. “Then Yu Mingjun spent the next two days trying to get Yanjun to withdraw his interest and for me to step into the position.” 

“Yu Mingjun?” Zhangjing asks. “Why’s that?” 

“He thinks Yanjun hasn’t let the hot water incident go, and that if Yanjun’s leader he’ll have a hell of a time.” 

Zhangjing snorts, lying back down. “That’s it? Lin Yanjun doesn’t hold grudges.” 

“Exactly, and we convinced him. Now we’re here and Yanjun is leader.” 

“At least you guys have a leader,” Lu Dinghao mutters, switching off the washroom light behind him. “We can’t even pick one safely because we know half of us are going to be gone by next week.” 

“Don’t say that,” Chaoze chastises him. “You’ll make it for sure, and then you’ll get to steal people from Team Two. That’s a win, isn’t it?” 

Team Two has been the subject of much gossip since the practice for practical evaluations began, both because of the powerhouses that comprise it and the fact that it burst into flames three nights ago. Rumour has it that it has something to do with the first place trainee Cai Xukun, who also hasn’t been seen since. Zhu Zhengting is also suspected to be involved, having been reported to have burned his hands.

“I mean, sure. We need better combatants on our team,” Dinghao agrees grudgingly. “Say, can we entice people like Zhu Zhengting and Ding Zeren to come?” 

“Maybe get Huang Xinchun to talk to him,” Zhangjing suggests, a sly grin playing on his lips. “How’s that been going?” 

“Yuehua found out and now Zhengting put Xinchun on lockdown,” says Dinghao, unashamed of acknowledging their relationship. “Just wait until I let it slip what Ding Zeren and Zhou Yanchen have been using the broom closet for, though.” 

Chaoze shrieks loudly, and Bei Honglin is drawn out of his covers by the conversation, red-rimmed eyes wide. 

“You really had to tell us that?” Zhangjing demands. “Now I can’t go up there ever again!” 

Dinghao shrugs, clearly trying to smother the smug look on his face. “Knowledge is a burden we must all share.”

“Haven’t you heard of ‘ignorance is bliss?’” Honglin sighs, before burying himself in his blankets once more. Chaoze is still distressed, his face in his hands and mourning for the loss of the safest space the trainees had.  _ Perhaps too safe _ .

It’s nearly half an hour later that they’re able to calm themselves and settle for bed. Zhangjing falls asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow. 

When he wakes up, the luminescent clock on their windowsill reads  _ 2:59 _ . Then, he feels the strange, furry warmth curled up against him. His first instinct is to panic, but he does it quietly, so that he doesn't rouse his roommates. 

"Lin Yanjun, what the hell are you doing here?" he sits up and whispers to the black cat currently snuggled tightly in his blankets. It cracks open one amber eye at him and yawns silently. "If you accidentally turn into a human while you're sleeping, what will people think?" 

Cat-jun stands up, arches his back, and reverts to human form right on Zhangjing's shins. "I won't. Even if I do, the others aren’t likely to question it, at this point.” 

"Ow, fuck." Zhangjing pulls his legs out from underneath his weight, scowling. "Why are you here?" 

In the dark, he could see the playful smile Yanjun wore a second ago disappear. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep." 

"Here, let's go outside so we don't disturb the others," Zhangjing offers with a sigh. He slips out of his blankets and pads over the cool floor on bare feet, Yanjun following suit. Outside the room, it's even colder; even though it's well into spring now, Dachang is still much chillier than the climes he's used to. 

Yanjun notices him shiver and wraps his arms around Zhangjing's shoulders from behind, pressing him down with his height but sharing his body heat. He breathes in Yanjun's scent. It's always detergent and shampoo that cling to him—clean, fresh, and simple. He didn't know how much he's missed Yanjun's physical affection until now. 

"Makes you miss Shanghai, doesn't it?" 

Zhangjing snorts quietly. "Not just Shanghai. I think I'm almost missing Malaysia." 

"For the coconut rice?" Yanjun asks, knowing that's not what he means. 

"For the coconut rice." They make their way up to the fourth floor, as is custom, and  _ almost _ settle in the broom closet, before Zhangjing remembers and steers them into an empty room instead. "So, Lin Yanjun, what's on your mind?" 

"It's been a long time since we've talked like this with each other," he says, skirting around the topic. His statement brings a smile to Zhangjing's face nonetheless. "I've missed this." 

"So have I," Zhangjing admits. "But seriously, tell me why you showed up in my room as a cat tonight." 

Yanjun is silent for a while, but Zhangjing waits patiently. Finally, he says, "I've been having dreams, Zhangjing. No, not just dreams—premonitions. The first dream I had since coming here came true." 

Zhangjing narrows his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" 

"I thought it could just be nightmares." Yanjun shrugged. "And I didn't want to distract you." 

"So you let yourself be miserable?" Zhangjing demands. "Is this why you've been like this, lately? So out of it?" 

"Maybe a little," he says guiltily. "But, back to the dream—I dreamed of a fire, and two trainees in the A-class. I couldn't see their faces but I knew by the shirts. And guess what happened?" 

"A fire," Zhangjing echoes. 

"Involving two trainees who were A-ranked during the evaluations," Yanjun finishes. "I'm scared, Zhangjing—if that came true, would the rest, too?" 

Zhangjing has never seen Yanjun like this before and, he has to admit, it distresses him, too. But, as the elder and the confidant, he does his best to stay level-headed and offer the best advice he can think of, "Maybe you should talk to a clairvoyant, like Zhou Yanchen. They can help you interpret what you've seen." 

"A clairvoyant," Yanjun repeats skeptically. Then, his eyes light up, having seemingly come to an epiphany. "You're right, Zhangjing. I'll see a clairvoyant in the morning." 

* * *

Lin Yanjun knocks on the door, taking a deep breath. He hears soft footsteps and, after a few seconds the door opens, revealing Zheng Ruibin’s curious face. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks Yanjun, puzzled. It’s not often he comes to visit them. 

“Can I talk to Jeffrey?” Yanjun peers over Ruibin’s shoulder to see the witch in question carrying something into the room from just outside the window. “It’s important.” 

Ruibin steps aside and opens the door wide to allow him access. He walks in with a quick thanks and approaches Jeffrey, who is currently occupied with removing eggs from a wide cardboard box and placing them carefully in his pink, chicken-shaped egg cooker. 

“Where’d you get all these eggs?” Yanjun asks incredulously. The crate is filled with layers upon layers of brown-shelled eggs cushioned with styrofoam, and he has put five of them into his egg cooker. 

“You know how you can bring two pieces of luggage? Well, I brought just one and this box,” Jeffrey admits, a little sheepishly. “There’s no fridge, but it’s cold enough outside that it acts like one.” 

“Is this what you eat to get nice pecs?”

He laughs and plugs in the egg cooker. “Maybe. So, what did you want to talk to me about?” 

Yanjun scans the room. Ruibin just left, presumably to the cafeteria for breakfast. “No one else here?” 

“Nope.” 

“Okay.” He turns back to Jeffrey. “So… I heard that clairvoyants can tell you what your dreams mean.” 

Jeffrey leans back on the table. “Is that your problem?” he asks gently, his expression instantly sharpening to focus. Yanjun is glad that, of all the clairvoyant witches at Dachang, he chose Jeffrey to approach. “Have you been dreaming a lot?” 

Yanjun nods. “And one of them came true a few days ago.” 

“What happened?” 

“The fire in Room Two,” he says. “I dreamed of two trainees and a fire. I couldn’t see their faces, but they were wearing pink sweaters with As on them. That would be Cai Xukun and Zhu Zhengting.” 

“It can certainly be interpreted as a premonition,” Jeffrey agrees, nodding, “but what else have you been seeing?” 

“A white pyramid that you can’t see the top of,” he recalls. “And two storms. The first one is just rain, but the second one is like a sandstorm, almost."

Jeffrey takes this information and mulls over it silently for a moment. “Here’s what I can do,” he says. “I can look into your future and see fragments, too, and I can check if any of the things I see line up with what you see. If they do, then it suggests that you are in fact experiencing premonitions, in which case I have ways to fix that.” 

“What, are you a doctor?” Yanjun asks. 

“Clairvoyant consulting was kind of my side hustle while training.” He shrugs. “You're not the first one to come to me with this kind of problem. Anyway, I’ll need you to do something for me so that I can see into your future.” 

“What is it? Do I need to pay you?” 

Jeffrey bends down and rummages through the drawers under his bed. He pulls out a jade bangle not unlike the ones Yanjun often sees middle-aged Chinese women wear, large and unwieldy. 

“I need to wear that?” He looks at it skeptically as Jeffrey holds it out to him. 

The clairvoyant nods. “It’s been passed down through my family and it’ll make it easier for me to look for your future specifically,” he explains. “If you don’t know how clairvoyance works, I see  _ a lot _ of things when I look. It’s hard to zero in on specifics without some kind of means to track things.” 

He also extracts a black box from his drawers. He places it on the table and inside it rests a clear crystal ball on a bed of smooth velvet. “I’ll look in the evening,” he says. “It’s usually easier and clearer than it is at eight in the morning. I’ll let you know if I see anything.” 

Yanjun slips the ugly bangle over this wrist, already hating its cold weight. “Thanks. I’ll owe you one.” 

Jeffrey grins, dimples showing. “I did take point from you last evaluation, so let’s say we’re even.” 

He claps him on the shoulder, and Yanjun smiles back gratefully. The egg cooker makes a clucking noise from its position on the table, and Yanjun takes that as his cue to go.   
  


* * *

When Xukun comes to, it feels like he'd been hit by a truck. And the same truck had backed up to run him over again. And probably once more, just to make sure he was actually in pain. 

Knowing all of this, he still makes the mistake of moving; he almost chokes on his own breath when he tries to sit up. 

Eventually, he manages, gritting his teeth against the ache that doesn't seem to spare any cell in his body. He takes in his surroundings once he's upright—they're dark and at first unfamiliar, but he slowly makes out the shapes that compose Cheng Xiao's potions room. Why the hell has he woken up here? 

Fragments of memories swim through his mind, sharp and cutting, like glass. He remembers doing a Simulacrum with Zhengting. Feeling lightheaded near the end. Leaning against the wall to stabilize himself... Zhengting asking him if he was okay... tasting blood in his throat and feeling it trickle through his fingers. He remembers seeing red and smelling smoke and feeling like his entire body was on fire... and Zhengting was screaming. Gods, Zhengting was screaming.

Xukun forces himself to swing his legs over the side of the small bed, the movement sending a wave of pain through his body. He hisses but ignores it, challenging his legs to support his weight as his bare feet touch the cool ground. He needs to find out if Zhengting is okay. He needs to know that he didn't hurt him when he lost control, because the gods knew Xukun couldn't live with something like that. 

He stumbles haphazardly through the room, narrowly missing shelves of potions that help to illuminate his path. He passes by a mirror on the wall to see that he looks awful—his features look sunken and his hair is a rat's nest, and what the hell is he wearing? The white t-shirt is much too big for him and the pants might as well be a skirt. He wills himself to put his particularities about his appearance inside. There are more important matters at hand. 

Outside the potions room are the evaluators' private living areas, although he knows that half the time they're unoccupied as they travel to and fro to answer their calls to duty. He heads to Yixing's room as quickly as his uncooperative limbs would carry him, hoping that he's there. 

He's almost at the door when he hears a sound and then a muffled "ow" from the adjacent hall. He freezes. He should call for Yixing—he's in no condition to defend himself. But then he picks up a familiar voice—Zhou Yanchen. 

"There's someone there, we need to move back a bit." 

Xukun quietly pads over in the direction of Yanchen's voice. Once he's out of earshot of Yixing's room, he calls softly, "Yanchen?" 

His voice is such a mangled mess that Yanchen must think he's a Frontier beast. He coughs softly and tries again. "Yanchen?" It's still raspy but intelligible, this time, and Zhou Yanchen's head pops out from around the corner. 

"Xukun!" the witch whisper-shouts, breaking into a grin. "It's- ow, Zhengting! What-" 

A dark shape pushes past Yanchen violently and Xukun doesn't even have time to react before it barrels into him, taking advantage of his unsteadiness to tackle him to the floor. Xukun grunts in pain but that's soon drowned in the relief that catches in his throat—it's Zhengting. Zhengting is fine. 

"Gods, Cai Xukun." Zhu Zhengting has his arms around his neck tightly, his face buried into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Xukun can feel something warm there, and he realizes belatedly that it must be tears. "Oh, gods." 

"Hey," he says, rather inadequately. "Zhengting, can you let go? It hurts." 

Zhengting untangles their limbs, shaking a little. "Sorry." 

"It's okay," he says. "I'm okay." 

This doesn't sit well with Zhengting. "Okay? Is this what 'okay' looks like? I haven't seen you for three days, Cai Xukun. Three days." 

His mouth opens and closes like a fish’s. "Three days?" he asks weakly. 

Zhengting looks like he's about to shout at him, but luckily, Justin emerges from the dark of the corridor and puts a hand on his shoulder. "We don't want to wake up any of the evaluators," he says. "Let's get out of here." 

Zhengting obliges with a huff and pulls Xukun up, the movement eliciting a sound of protest from him. At this, Zhengting becomes gentler, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him as they walk. Zhengting's sniffles follow them as they return to the trainees' area, and it makes Xukun feel guilty and uncomfortable. 

"How did you guys find the evaluators' quarters?" Xukun asks in the heavy silence. He's never been one to mind it before, but now the biggest part of him desperately wants to break the ice as if he's fifteen all over again, a nervous kid in too deep for his own good.

When Zhengting doesn't answer, Justin supplies him with, "Yanchen-ge helped us. We had him search for hours using his crystal ball."

"Yeah, and I get no compensation of any form for this," Yanchen adds with mock disappointment. "Anyway, how are you feeling, Xukun?" 

"It hurts like hell," he admits, surprised by the words that fell out of his own mouth. "But other than that I feel okay." 

"You scared us real bad, you know," says Yanchen. "All sorts of stories are going around."

Xukun swallows. "Has it really been three days?"

"Yes," Zhengting and Yanchen say in unison. Yanchen glances at the former once before discreetly moving closer to Justin. Zhengting clears his throat and says, "Yes, it's really been three days, Cai Xukun. And you say that you're  _ okay _ ." 

Cai Xukun has never been afraid of Zhu Zhengting before—never been afraid of anyone, really—but there's a tightness in his voice that sets off sirens in his head in a way that he thinks is almost akin to fear. In the darkness of the service corridor, it's hard to tell what Zhengting is thinking, but Xukun knows from the stiffness in his support that the former is definitely  _ not _ pleased with him. 

"Zhengting," he says carefully, "I'm sorry." 

"Sorry?" Zhengting stops, letting go and leaving him to stumble and seek out the wall for support. Yanchen quickly grabs one of his arms and Justin the other. In the new distance between them, Xukun can see that both of Zhengting's hands are wrapped in thick bandages. "Sorry doesn't cut it." 

"Gods, did I do that to you?" he asks, disentangling himself from Justin and Yanchen and grabbing Zhengting's hands. "Zhengting, I-" 

"Never mind that," Zhengting hisses, pulling away. His voice shakes, now, and Xukun is so lost that he shrinks back to the safety of the others' support. "Do you have any idea how fucking scared I was when- when you just basically died on me like that? You could've at least told me that you had this problem; instead I guess you thought it would be so damn smart to go, 'Let's just have Zhu Zhengting find out when I cough up my organs, pass out, and set everything on fire!'"

Xukun looks at the man in front of him incredulously, having trouble reconciling the Zhu Zhengting he was just getting to know with the one yelling at him now. That Zhu Zhengting was composed, powerful, and positive, always full of morale and level-headed strategy. This Zhu Zhengting is a bit of a wreck, all bottled up anxieties and a wild mess of hurt and confusion. 

"Zhengting, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," he tries quietly. "But I didn't want anyone to know about it." 

"Is that why Zhou Rui and Wang Ziyi and Qian Zhenghao and all the damn mentors know about it?" Zhengting is still angry, but losing the steam of his earlier outburst quickly. "Why couldn't you tell me? Gods, we could've prevented that if you told me. We could've done an easier Sim-"

"Zhou Rui and Zhenghao know because I fucked up and Zhou Rui saw me running through the dorms half-naked," he says, sighing. If recounting  _ that _ stupid incident is what it takes to cool Zhengting down, so be it, even if it means that Justin now has a new story to tell. "The mentors know because Zhou Rui told Yixing about it. Ziyi knows because he was my first friend here; I trusted him. I didn't think I needed to tell anyone else. I thought I had it under control." 

"'Under control,' my ass," Zhengting scoffs, the sound breaking off into something strangled and distressed. He approaches and puts his arms around Xukun's neck again, firmly. "I swear, if you ever pull something so fucking stupid on me ever again, I'll- gods, I don't know what I'd do but you won't like it." 

"Understood," he whispers against Zhengting's ear, rubbing the elder's back awkwardly. A foreign feeling bubbles up inside of him, something that has been a stranger to him for years. "Thanks for worrying about me, Zhengting." 


	17. ashes from fireworks (iii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ashes from fireworks—hua chenyu  
> i should not be lost in my thoughts, all on my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops i haven't updated for a while even though i've been writing a ton with quarantine and all,,, but i've been kinda on a whole bunch of projects lately, including a nongkun 14k (15k, really, since it's 14.9k words) and you can find that [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24229633)! not to promote myself but... it _is_ my other work, so...
> 
> i'm also joining a fic fest so i've started work on that as well so i'm a little all over the place ahahaha. ahem, i should just shut up but the last excuse i need to make for myself is that i really wasn't super ready to publish this chapter bc it just felt off; i'm not great with heavy emotions to be 100% honest and i'm still working on it so this chapter i think is part of my learning curve and might to be as polished as my others. anyway, if you find anything off about the emotions and stuff feel free to point it out! everything helps <3

They agree on a story for him, and Xukun repeats it for the next little bit as his fellow trainees visit him one after another, curious and hungry for gossip. 

What happened in Room Two was a simulator malfunction; he was trapped in the Sim while the simulator blew some of its parts and set the room on fire. Due to the extent of his injuries, he had to be taken to the hospital to recover instead of in the infirmary they had on campus. Luckily, thanks to expert care and his genetics, he will make a full recovery very soon. 

Until then, he is strictly confined to bed and must let all those who want to coddle him do so to their hearts’ content, to apparently make up for the scare he gave them. Ziyi drops in at least thrice daily with new remedial herbs every time, his brows creased in gentle concern. Zhou Rui hollers at him every time he gets out of bed on shaky legs to use the washroom, despite it being at most five steps away. Zhenghao brings him snacks from the convenient store and desserts from the cafeteria and little bits of information Xukun isn’t sure he’s really keen on hearing, but he lets him say it anyway. 

Even Zhang Yixing himself comes several times to check up on him. The first time, the commander’s expression is so stern that Xukun almost wishes he hadn’t woken up. 

“Did you have any idea how worried we were when you were gone in the morning?” Yixing asks him. The other trainees have cleared out so that they can speak alone. “Not just for your safety, but for the safety of everyone here, we can’t have an unstable dragonling walking around.” 

“Sorry, Commander,” Xukun says guiltily. Privately, he thinks that it’s a stroke of luck that he’d woken up in time and left—he could only imagine the consequences his friends would face if they’re caught trying to break into Cheng Xiao’s quarters.

Yixing sighs, sitting down at the foot of his bed. It’s an odd gesture of concern for someone who is supposed to be his superior, but Xukun lets it warm him anyway. 

“While you were out, we made a stronger formula for you,” he says, pulling out a pouch from his jacket pocket. He drops it in Xukun’s lap, on top of the blankets, where it lands with a muffled _clink._ “I’ve tested it. It suppresses my abilities almost completely, let alone any incompatibility symptoms. For you, it should work to a similar extent.” 

Xukun opens the pouch and finds a handful of tiny vials filled with a glowing purple fluid. He wonders what it must cost to make something like this, but he remembers that Yixing had told him not to worry about that when he first started treatment. “Thank you.” 

“Take it once a day, in the evening,” instructs Yixing. “By the following morning, its effects should have lightened so that you can actually use your abilities normally.” 

He nods, pulling the drawstring shut and slipping it into the drawers beneath his bunk for safekeeping. 

“By the way,” the commander adds, “we’ve pushed the date for eliminations to Monday. You have the entire weekend to recover.” 

“Just for me?” Xukun asks incredulously. 

Yixing stands, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yes, just for you, Trainee Cai Xukun,” he says. “First place can’t be absent, can he?” 

He turns and exits the room, leaving an open-mouthed Xukun behind. Zhou Rui returns a few moments later, with a few others in tow—Justin, Ziyi, and Yanchen. “What did the commander say to you?” the siren asks. 

“He was understandably upset that a time bomb was walking around campus,” Xukun responds dryly. “But he dropped off stronger meds. Apparently, I’ll actually have things under control this time.” 

“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”

Xukun hums in agreement. He turns to Justin, who has been looking at him with an urgent expression on his face since he’d arrived. “What is it?”

Justin approaches him and grabs his shoulders, startling him. “Listen, Kun-ge,” he says quickly and quietly, “Zhengting is coming to visit soon.” 

Xukun blinks. “What’s wrong with that?” 

“You don’t understand,” Justin glances at the door, which is ajar, and then at Yanchen, who gets the memo and heads to close it. “This happens every time one of us—as in a member of our team—gets sick or hurt. Zhengting—Zhengting is _crazy._ ”

As if on cue, the door flies open before Yanchen can shut it fully. Xukun peers over Justin’s shoulder to see none other than Zhu Zhengting stride into the room purposefully. Justin quickly lets go and steps back, giving him one last apologetic look before allowing Zhengting to stand right in front of Xukun imposingly. 

“I brought you breakfast,” he announces, holding up a plastic bag filled with boxes. He sets it down on Xukun’s legs and begins taking out the styrofoam containers Xukun recognizes as the ones from the cafeteria.

“Zhengting,” he says. “This is a lot.” 

The leader of Yuehua looks at him challengingly. “Then pick something to eat.” 

“Okay.” Xukun makes eye contact with Justin, who mouths _This is what I meant._ Zhou Rui is stifling snickers while Ziyi and Yanchen are edging into a corner slowly.

He takes a cylindrical container and a spoon from the bag, opening the lid to find still-steaming congee inside. He puts a spoonful into his mouth under Zhengting’s watchful eye, and _gods, this is so fucking awkward_.

“Thanks, Zhengting,” he says. “I really appreciate it.” 

“You’d better,” says Zhengting, with a huff, “and you’d also better not do anything stupid in the next couple of days.” 

He swallows another spoonful of porridge, eyebrows raised. “What have I done recently?”

Zhengting glares at him. “How about _you_ tell me.” 

Xukun sighs. “Are you still angry at me?” 

“No.” 

“That isn’t convincing at all.” 

Zhengting opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off promptly by Zhou Rui, who rolls his eyes and groans, “Cut! It’s like we’re watching a shitty drama. What’s next? ‘You should take better care of yourself?’” 

Xukun snorts and Justin bursts out laughing. “See?” Justin points to Zhengting’s face with one hand over his mouth. “You can tell that’s literally what he was about to say!” 

“Shut the fuck up,” says Zhengting. The tips of his ears are red. “I can say whatever-” 

“In this household we don’t swear,” Justin taunts, before making a mad dash for the door and dragging Yanchen with him. Contrary to what he expected, Zhengting doesn’t immediately give chase. 

Instead, he turns back to Xukun and says, “Get well soon. I’ll come and visit later.” 

And then he’s out the door, hollering _Huang Minghao, get back here right now!_ loudly enough for the entirety of the dorms to hear. 

Xukun goes back to his porridge gratefully. It’s just him, Ziyi, and Zhou Rui left in the room now, and it lapses into a comfortable quiet as Ziyi sits down at the desk to fidget with the things littered over it and Zhou Rui leaves to look for Zhu Xingjie and Xiao Gui. 

“How are you feeling?” Ziyi asks him, breaking the silence. 

Xukun scrapes the last of the congee clean with the spoon. “Not bad.” He thinks of what happened minutes earlier. It brings a smile to his lips, tentatively. “Not bad at all.” 

“That’s good,” says Ziyi. “Is there anything I can do to make things better for you?” 

He shrugs, reaching into the plastic bag for the box of steamed buns. His hand freezes as something occurs to him. “You think I can go out for some fresh air?” 

“You’re not supposed to be moving around that much,” Ziyi says skeptically. “And if Zhengting catches you outside you really _will_ be confined to bed, because he’ll break your legs.” 

_Zhengting is crazy_. Justin’s words ring through his head one more time before Xukun puts the steamed buns back and flings his covers aside. “I’m sure he knows when things are counterintuitive.” 

He slips out of bed and into a pair of slippers. When he stands, it’s still a little unsteady and painful, but it’s a vast improvement to the night before. 

“Be careful,” Ziyi warns, standing up and handing him his jacket with one hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m going to grab a coat; I’ll meet you by the stairs?” 

He throws the jacket on. “Sure.” 

Xukun walks over to the stairs slowly, making sure to stick close to the wall in case he stumbles. On the way there, he spots Zuo Ye coming down the hall. The younger boy’s eyes light up and he sprints over. 

“Kun-ge!” He flings out his arms to hug him, before skidding to a stop, remembering that Xukun isn’t exactly stable. “Sorry. I was so worried about you! What happened? How are you now? Wh-”

“One question at a time,” Xukun stops him. “I’m sure you’ve heard already. Simulator blew up. Had to go to the hospital.” 

“Are you okay?” Zuo Ye asks, scanning him up and down with nothing but concern in his eyes. 

Xukun smiles. Some unknown force tells him to pat Zuo Ye on the head a couple of times, and he does. “I’m okay.” 

Later, he’s sitting on the bench outside with Ziyi, enjoying the feeling of sunshine on his face and the warming air—it’s still chilly outside, but much warmer than it had been when they first came to Dachang. He doesn’t remember when he started enjoying these things again, but he thinks that it has to be to do with the boy sitting next to him and all the others he’s met in the past three months. 

That’s why, when the eliminations finally arrive after a lazy weekend, Xukun sits down in the first place seat—a throne, really—struggling to hold back the tears.

 _Don’t cry, Cai Xukun,_ he chastises himself. _Don’t cry_. But it’s really getting harder. Thirty-four of the thirty-five trainees to advance to the next stage of the contest have been announced, and there is only one spot left. Yixing announces that it is between Li Rang, Dong Yanlei, Hu Zhibang, and Zuo Ye. 

_“Think I can make Team Nine with you, Kun-ge?”_

He had doubted it back then, but now that the doubt has become real it’s harder to bear. 

_“If you keep it up.”_

His hands are clenched in his lap and he’s praying that it’s Zuo Ye, that it’s Zuo Ye, that it’s Zuo Ye, because he doesn’t know what he’d do if it wasn’t. He told Zuo Ye he’d help him, he told Zuo Ye that he’d help him so that they can make it to the Frontier together. If they don’t, then what has Zuo Ye been calling him _Kun-ge_ for all this time? What kind of older brother leaves his younger brother behind?

“Trainee Li Rang,” says Zhang Yixing. 

The room explodes into applause for the final contestant to make the cut, and Xukun claps along perfunctorily. Robotically, he makes the bow with the rest of the trainees and someone—the commander—asks him to say something into a microphone, a statement regarding how he feels about the eliminations. He opens his mouth to speak but no words are coming out, only a strangled noise accompanied by a sour burn at the back of his throat and a warm blurriness in his eyes. 

“It’s okay, take your time,” Yixing chides gently, wearing a bittersweet smile. 

Xukun nods, half horrified at what he is feeling and the other half desperately trying to channel the mess of emotions he feels into words. Not exactly easy when he’s about to cry on national television. 

“My feelings are complicated right now,” he begins. The tears haven’t fallen yet so he tilts his head back, hoping that he might be able to staunch them. “Everyone’s worked very hard and it… it really hasn’t been easy. For anyone.” 

And he has to stop. Because he feels something warm trickling down his cheeks. It is terrifying and foreign and embarrassing and liberating all at the same time. 

What’s more, it begins to carry a sense of solidarity when he hears applause. In the clapping, he hears his own words, agreed with fifty-nine times.

“Even if you leave today, you made this place yours.” 

At the end of the eliminations, Xukun finds Zuo Ye in the crowd. For the first time, he is the one to crush him into an embrace. 

“Kun-ge, don’t cry,” says Zuo Ye. “I’ll keep chasing after you in other ways.” 

Xukun pulls back, eyes red. “Don’t say that,” he admonishes. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing now.” 

Zuo Ye gives him a watery smile. “Oh, that isn’t what I meant, Kun-ge. I mean that _you’re_ different now.”

* * *

  
  


“I’ll see you again.” Chen Linong tells Xu Kaihao firmly as they hug one final time. “When I’m back in Taiwan, you’d better buy me a milk tea for every time I fed you instant noodles in the past three months.” 

Kaihao snorts, breaking free of their hug to get his luggage. “As if you’re going back to Taiwan anytime soon.” 

“There’s only a month left of _NINE_.” 

“But afterwards, you’re going to be with _Team_ Nine for eighteen months,” Kaihao points out matter-of-factly. “Oh, come on. Don’t give me that look. You’re going to make it and you know it.” 

Linong feels his smile falter. “Expect nothing and you will never be disappointed,” he says.

“I won’t be disappointed in you either way,” Kaihao promises. With that, Linong watches as he trots off to the car arrived at Dachang to pick him up, waving the entire way. He stays at the door, shivering a little, until the car leaves. 

He goes back inside to find the rest of the trainees trickling out of the dorms. He says goodbye to each and every one of them he comes across; Qin Zimo, Jing Peiyao, and Zuo Ye all leave together as Han Mubo and Qin Fen are the only ones from their company who still remain. Chen Siqi leaves alone, as his teammate has been long gone. The Zhu twins, Yuntian and Yunyi, depart as a duo, Yunyi’s eyes still covered in bandages as he recovers from an injury that prevented him from participating in the specialization evaluations. 

In this room, two of four bunks have been stripped bare, but traces of Li Changgeng and Xu Kaihao still linger—a forgotten guitar pick rests on the windowsill to be returned to its owner, and one last instant noodle package sits on top of all the trash as a reminder that only yesterday a third person occupied this room. 

Lin Yanjun, his last remaining roommate, comes out of the washroom in shorts and a wide t-shirt, his hair glistening. Of course, he showered. If Linong is any judge, showering is Yanjun’s coping mechanism of choice, and his teammate Bei Honglin left an hour ago. 

“Hey,” he says. “I left some hot water this time.” 

Linong laughs. “It’s okay, I’ll shower after the reallocations.” 

Yanjun rubs his hair with his towel aggressively, tousling it. “Speaking of reallocations, who do you want to stay on this team?” 

“You, of course,” Linong answers immediately. He may have seemed too eager, because it brings a smile to Yanjun’s lips. “And I want Chaoze for sure.” 

“That’s the dream, isn’t it?” Yanjun sighs. “If only we still had Xu Kaihao, too.” 

Linong doesn’t really even have much time to worry when the reallocations breeze by, and his new team consists of himself, Lin Yanjun, Lin Chaoze, Ling Chao, Mu Ziyang, Li Quanzhe, and Yu Mingjun. There is no time to be sorry, either, for the three they evicted—Qin Fen, Li Xikan, and Yue Yue. Instead, they launch into practice immediately to familiarize themselves with the new formations. 

The Simulacrum is relentless. The wind snaps at their clothes and blows dust into their eyes and Linong is squinting so hard he can’t really see. It doesn’t even make sense, given they’re in a valley Labyrinth, and he hears Yu Mingjun ask, “Where the fuck is this wind even coming from?” 

“No idea,” Lin Chaoze yells back. “Linong, keep up! You’re our point, you gotta stay in front!” 

“Sorry,” he calls, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. He pushes through the group from where he’d fallen behind and retakes his position as the point. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Yanjun’s voice comes from just over his shoulder, low and steady. “You’ll get it eventually. We’ll break after this.” 

Linong swallows and nods. 

They practice well into the night. After the break Yanjun calls, they run Sim after Sim until even Lin Chaoze is complaining with the masses. By then, Linong is silent. He’s scared that if he opens his mouth, he’ll say something he regrets. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Yanjun asks him, when they return to their room. Linong sits down heavily in the one swivelling chair they have, eyeing his sunflower. It’s so obviously depressed that he can’t even lie to Yanjun. “You’ve been quiet.” 

“I don’t know,” he opts to say, eyes trained on the floor now. “I’m sorry for dragging down the team.” 

“Don’t say that,” Yanjun chastises. He flops down onto his bed and puts his legs up and his arms behind his head. His sleeve falls and reveals a raw, red scrape on his forearm—they all have some kind of token from today. “We have a week to practice and this is just the first day.” 

“We’ve already practiced for a week,” he says, the frustration creeping into his voice. “I should never have taken point from Quanzhe.” 

Yanjun looks at him intently. “Barring the fact that I think you’d make a better point than Li Quanzhe, anyway, stop thinking like that. It’ll only make you worse.” 

“Yanjun, I don’t know if I deserve to be here,” he protests.

“You’re fifth place,” Yanjun responds. “Frankly, if you didn’t deserve to be here, you might rank around where I do. But _fifth_? That says something about your skills, Linong.” 

“You should be fifth,” he shoots back. “You’re a good leader, and you’re so versatile. You were a tactician first, and then a navigator, and now you’re a leader, too? What next? You’re going to turn out to be a better shot than Fan Chengcheng and I’ll really be packing up and going home, then.” 

Yanjun raises his eyebrows. “This isn’t like you.” 

Linong doesn’t say anything. His eyes burn, but he can’t let any tears fall. Not in front of Yanjun. Yanjun never cries. 

“I’ll tell you one last time, as your senior and the leader of your team,” says Yanjun. “You are skilled and talented. You’re just not in it right now, so you’ve got two choices: either get your head in the game or Lin Chaoze will do it for you, the hard way.” 

“Is that how he whipped all of you guys into shape? You and Zhangjing-ge and Dinghao?” 

Yanjun snorts. “Gods, he ran us into the ground. Trust me, you’re lucky I’m the one staging your intervention.” 

Unbidden, Linong feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re right.” 


	18. dumb show (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dumb show—fan chengcheng  
> time tears open new wounds when you pretend the old have healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhh i'm not super happy with this chapter tbh but like what's new?? i promise i have better days ;u; anyway if you have any idea why this chapter is bad lmk in comments bc i plan to rewrite it when i have more braincells! anything helps <3

Sometimes, Ziyi does have doubts about his own compassion. After all, what kind of a person offers up their kindness, to their own detriment, and regrets it a second later? Perhaps it’s his intelligence that should be called into question. 

He is on a team of all navigators, he discovers. After he and Xukun voted themselves out of Team 2 for the sake of Qian Zhenghao, they bounced to Team 5, Xiao Gui’s team, where the imp chose Xukun, Zheng Ruibin, and Qin Fen (for whom Ziyi gave up his spot) for their challenge. That left Ziyi to leave with Yue Yue and Li Rang to fill in the remaining spaces on the other teams, and it was just Ziyi’s luck to end up on Team 4. 

He scans the room again, cataloguing his teammates. 

Some are a little unfamiliar to him. There’s Han Mubo, of OACA—a shrewd siren with plenty of experience. Yang Feitong, of Summer Star—a powerful sprite and able combatant. Bi Wenjun, of Yuehua—a tall, good-looking bard, half generative siren. 

Others, he knows well. There’s Jeffrey Tung, the clairvoyant of Huayi, with whom Ziyi often spends quite some time training. There’s also Zhou Rui, and it goes without saying that they’re as good a pair of friends as any other. 

And there’s You Zhangjing. A cathartic siren from Banana Institute with thus far unparalleled abilities to navigate and support a team. Ziyi hasn’t had the chance to interact with him much, but he’s always been curious from afar of the young man with bright, adorable smiles, a child-like mop of brown curls, and more raw power than anyone at Dachang, barring perhaps only four people. Ziyi knows this because he can feel it; being near You Zhangjing is like being near Cai Xukun or Zhang Yixing or Fan Chengcheng or Justin Huang. Enough energy in one person to raze the building to the ground if they so choose. 

“Let’s all welcome Ziyi.” Han Mubo’s voice pulls him back to the situation at hand. The team claps and Ziyi smiles at them. “So, you’re a tactician, right?” 

“Right,” Ziyi says. “I have to admit, navigation is my weakest area.” 

“Oh, we’ll fix that.” Jeffrey grins. “Isn’t that right, guys?” 

Zhou Rui nods and claps You Zhangjing on the back. “Of course. You’ll have the best navigator at Dachang coaching you personally.” 

“Don’t say that,” You Zhangjing protests at the flattery, but he’s smiling. “You’re forgetting a lot of people. Zheng Ruibin, for one. Qian Zhenghao, for another. And Zhu Xingjie is a navigator, too, you know.” 

“Zhu Xingjie is a navigator?” Yang Feitong asks, with wide eyes. “Is there anything he _can’t_ do?” 

Ziyi laughs at the banter. “Thanks. I trust that I’m in good hands.” 

“The best,” Zhou Rui emphasizes, looking Ziyi straight in the eye and smirking. He doesn’t know what it means, but it’s Zhou Rui, who has always been a little enigmatic at times, so he dismisses it.

They start training shortly after they all get to know Ziyi a little bit more, and Ziyi them. He learns that Han Mubo has interned under none other than Chris Lee herself, one of the first Chinese women to ever explore the Frontier. Bi Wenjun was scouted by Yuehua at a yoyo contest, of all things; you’d never know by just looking at the guy. And You Zhangjing—You Zhangjing is interesting. 

It’s his duality that has Ziyi enraptured; the siren is small, giggly, and affectionate, and it’s so utterly at odds with the power he radiates and the sharp, scrutinizing look in his eye that Ziyi notices at certain angles. You Zhangjing emanates safety and danger at the same time. 

That’s why, perhaps, Ziyi’s heart won’t stop pounding when You Zhangjing sits down next to him to teach him navigational skills. 

“So, have you ever trained in navigation at all? Whether at Dachang or with your company before?” The siren sounds like a professional which, Ziyi supposes, he is. All he’s missing is a clipboard to take notes with. 

“Rudimentary,” he says. “Just enough that if we get separated from the team we can make it back to the base on the Shore.” 

Zhangjing hums. “Okay, then there’ll be a lot for you to learn.” He pauses. “You’re a vampire, correct?” 

“Yes.” Ziyi nods, wondering why that has to do with anything. 

“Can you turn into a bat, like Zhu Xingjie?”

_Ah, that’s what it is._ Ziyi shakes his head, a little bit sheepishly. “No. I haven’t been fortunate enough to inherit that skill.” 

“That’s fine,” Zhangjing reassures him. “We’ll find some areas you can build your navigational skills on. Now, what abilities do you have?” 

Ziyi counts them off on his fingers—there’s the superhuman stamina and durability afforded to his species, as well as above-average strength and speed and accelerated healing. None of those things cater to a navigational specialty; they neither discern paths nor support his teammates, really. 

But then one other thing, inspired by none other than You Zhangjing himself, comes to mind. “I think I have sensory abilities.” 

“Well, that’s always good,” says Zhangjing earnestly. “What type of sensing do you have? Is it acute or more general?” 

Ziyi doesn’t know those terms, and he feels heat rising to his face involuntarily. He should be used to it by now—if Dachang has taught him anything, it’s that he is not superior to anyone, contrary to what his family wanted him to believe before he cut ties. Here, he isn’t the best at anything, and it’s humbling. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. All of these statements of inadequacy feel oddly liberating, even though a loud voice in his head is telling him he should be ashamed. “But I can feel how much raw power people have, if that makes sense.” 

Zhangjing nods. “So, that’s general. That’s good because you can usually extend your sensory range quite a bit if you’re a general sensor; you’d make a good scout.” 

“Really?” he asks curiously. “How do I do that?” 

“It’ll take a bit of practice, as with anything else.” Zhangjing looks around at their teammates. They’re all occupied with various preparatory activities; Han Mubo and Jeffrey are sparring, demonstrating for Bi Wenjun, and Yang Feitong and Zhou Rui are huddled over their gear plans. “Let’s go find an empty room. It’ll be easier without all these signatures around messing with you, especially sirens.” 

“Signatures?” 

“They’re what we call the things we feel,” Zhangjing explains, standing. He offers Ziyi a hand. “Signatures are unique to every person and every sensor. You say you can sense raw power. Explain to me how that feels to you.” 

Ziyi lets Zhangjing pull him to his feet and they head to the door together. “It’s like pressure,” he says, narrowing his senses. You Zhangjing’s pressure is almost overwhelming if he focuses on it. 

“So, you’ll mainly be looking at the force of a signature rather than its characteristics,” Zhangjing determines. He heads down the hall to an unoccupied training room and signs into it with their names. “You’ll be able to discern what things are and how far away they are from you by how much it pushes against you with its potency.” 

Ziyi files that information away. “And what do you mean by characteristics?”

“It’s a different mode of sensing, I guess.” The siren shrugs. “I go by characteristics, usually. I can tell who’s approaching by what kind of a feeling they evoke; for example, you remind me of old, black-and-white romance movies.” He blushes, and covers his laugh with a hand. “Okay, that’s kind of a weird thing to say, but it’s true. Maybe it’s cause you look like an old-timey actor. Everyone gives me a different vibe, or so to say, and yours is one of the normal ones, in comparison.” 

“Oh, really?” Ziyi smiles. “How weird does it get?” 

Zhangjing’s cheeks redden further. “Fan Chengcheng reminds me of a McDonald’s Happy Meal.” 

Ziyi laughs out loud, and a part of him is startled by how unrestrained it is. He takes it to mean good news, though—he’s almost free. Almost free of the influence under which he reached the age of majority and almost went to business school. The influence which took him cutting ties with his entire clan save a select few who couldn’t care less what he did with his life. 

If that’s what it took to make his own choices, it’s a small price to pay, really. 

Zhangjing quickly customizes a Simulacrum with practiced ease and they practice in it for the rest of the day, the siren gently coaching him through the process from reaching out with his senses to deciding if something was a Frontier beast or a magical substance or otherwise. Ziyi is proud of his progress by the end of the day; he can tell different Gatekeepers apart from each other, and Zhangjing promises that the next time they practice together they’ll expand his range. 

“Thank you so much for putting all this time into helping me,” Ziyi says, sincerely. “I don’t know what I can do for you in return.” 

“Just do well in the Sim and you benefit all of us.” Zhangjing gives him an endearingly toothy grin, and it makes him look a bit like a rabbit. The rush of affection Ziyi feels for the siren is no coincidence. “I’m heading to the cafeteria, now, because I’m hungry as hell. Catch you later!” 

Ziyi watches Zhangjing leave before returning to the room where the others are. Most of them have left, too, and the only one in the practice room is Zhou Rui, and he is packing up his things. 

“Hey,” he says, tossing Ziyi his jacket. “How was You Zhangjing?” 

“He’s great,” Ziyi replies, maybe too quickly. “He’s a very good teacher.” 

“I told you that you were in good hands,” Zhou Rui says smugly. “What do you think about his personality?” 

Ziyi slings his jacket over the crook of his arm and looks at him, puzzled. “He’s nice, and funny. Why?” 

“Oh, I thought he could be your type.” Zhou Rui throws that statement in his face like it’s the most normal thing ever. Ziyi half expects him to pair it with a hairflip, for good measure. “Is he?” 

“Zhou Rui, this is _NINE_ , not _If You Are The One_ ,” he says, aghast. “And I wasn’t even aware that I had a type.” 

Zhou Rui snorts. “Given you and Xukun, I didn’t think You Zhangjing would fit the bill until I saw the way you look at him. Like he’s the best thing since sliced bread.” 

“I don’t even like bread,” Ziyi protests, but Zhou Rui’s words are slowly falling into place for him. _Given you and Xukun_. “Wait—what are you trying to say?” 

“Do you really need me to say something so awkward?” Zhou Rui asks. _But you brought it up,_ Ziyi wants to argue, but he keeps his mouth shut so Zhou Rui can proceed to do the exact thing he just complained about. “Zhu Zhengting went from hating Xukun’s guts to looking at him like Ding Zeren looks at Zhou Yanchen. That messes you up because of how you feel about Xukun, which is unclear to even yourself. You’re distracted. Then, You Zhangjing comes along and you’re intrigued by some part of him and it’s not just his talent.” He crosses his arms when Ziyi stays silent. “Am I wrong?”

Ziyi can’t answer. He feels completely blindsided by Zhou Rui’s… analysis. That’s the best word for it. Maybe the only word. Zhou Rui’s _analysis_ of his situation. He can’t say Zhou Rui is wrong, because a part of him feels that he isn’t. But it doesn’t seem entirely correct, either. 

“I don’t know,” he answers. “Where do you get all of this from?” 

“You’ve been in the same room with the best navigators at Dachang, Wang Ziyi,” Zhou Rui responds, his expression softening. “To us, people project. You may as well be wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

He steps closer and reaches up to put a light hand on his shoulder. “I don’t mean to criticize you. I just want you to know yourself because, trust me, it hurts when you don’t and you have to find out.”

* * *

As the Sim concludes, Xiao Gui sees Zhou Jieqiong purse her lips in disapproval. The _scritch-scratch_ ing of her pen on her clipboard is the only sound in the room, and he can tell that it grates on people’s nerves. It almost does his. 

“This is messy, to say the least,” she finally says, after a long period of quiet. “You guys are supposed to be a team, but I’m not seeing any of that from anyone.” 

They stay silent. Xiao Gui chances a glance down the row of his teammates. Zheng Ruibin chews his lip nervously. Li Xikan fiddles with his sleeve. Qin Fen is looking everywhere but at the evaluators. And Bu Fan’s eyes are still red-rimmed from the ordeals of the morning. 

And Xiao Gui, well, Xiao Gui is tired. Not physically. He’s tired of Dachang, he’s tired of waking up in the morning and dragging himself out of bed to practice with a team that he knows he’s also competing against. To force himself to become better than his friends so that they might be the ones eliminated in his place. To throw himself into a competition where he knows it’s not merit that matters, but money. The specialization evaluations were proof of that: when Zhu Zhengting took first place in combat and Ding Zeren first in his group, Xiao Gui wanted to just quit. Beat someone up first, then quit. Because how could they take first over Zhou Yanchen? Zhou Yanchen, who sacrificed everything for his dreams, only to have it sabotaged by his worthless team? 

And what about Zhu Yuntian? The older of the Zhu twins was once the leader of his team now, until the last eliminations took him and his brother. Bu Fan took his place and broke down not long after, because they all remember clearly just how much Yuntian cared about this challenge, how desperately he wanted them to do well. 

Zhou Jieqiong dismisses them back to practice after telling them once again that they don’t work like a team. Xiao Gui wants to ask her, _How can we work in a team when you just keep taking teammates away?_

But, of course, he keeps his mouth shut. He’s learned, by now, that defiance has little place here, and the last thing he wants is to be kicked out. 

After all, he promised them—Xingjie and Yanchen and Yankai—that one of them, the F4, would make it. If not Xingjie then Yanchen, if not Yanchen then Yankai, if not Yankai then Xiao Gui. And Xiao Gui has the best chance, now; he can’t let them down. 

Back in the practice room, Bu Fan sits everyone down on the floor in a circle and announces, “We need to get to know each other better.” 

“Bu Fan is right,” Qin Fen, their oldest member, at twenty-six, echoes. “I’m sure we’ve all seen enough of each other on-screen, but we’ve only practiced together for two days. We have five more to familiarize ourselves with each other completely.”

“What do you suggest we do?” asks Xu Sheng’en. “I don’t think just talking about it will get us anywhere.” 

“I think it might, actually.” All eyes in the room turn to reticent champion Cai Xukun. 

“How so?” Xiao Gui leans back on his hands, regarding the dragonling warily. He acknowledges that he’s insanely talented, but he knows better than to place too much trust in those who establish themselves early on as lone wolves. They got to the top alone, _somehow_ —the streets have taught him that much. 

“When I was with SWIN,” he says, “we always talked after every Sim we ran about the things that went wrong. We practiced a lot, and reflected a lot. I think it helped make us aware of the problems we’re having if we spend more time with it.” 

_And look how SWIN turned out,_ Xiao Gui almost says, but he doesn’t. Cai Xukun is being genuine, he decides; if there’s anything else he’s good at, it’s telling when people are being shady. 

“Alright,” he says. “Then, would you like to start?” 

“Sure,” says Xukun. He looks at Bu Fan, first. “For one, Bu Fan, I don’t think you’re doing a bad job as leader. You’re looking out for the team and calling the shots, even if you’re a little hesitant to when things get intense. It’s not your fault that we’re not cohesive; we just haven’t worked together enough. If anything, you shouldn’t be blaming yourself. We’ll just be practicing more.” 

The sentiment is echoed through their circle and Xiao Gui nods along. It’s a good, morale-boosting statement, but he waits for Cai Xukun to actually give out advice. He doesn’t disappoint. 

“I’m not saying you should do what I did when I was the leader of our team.” The corners of Xukun’s mouth twitch upwards in a brief smile. “I lacked basic consideration, and I'm sorry for that. But you should be more confident in your calls and make them with more force so that they’ll be carried out in time. Don’t give us room to question you.

“And if you need any more help I’d suggest going to ask Zhu Zhengting. He’s the leader of _Yuehua_ , of all groups—if he can keep them under control, I’m sure he can handle any team. Or Lin Chaoze—he’s got Trainee18.” 

Bu Fan nods in earnest. “You got it, Kunkun. Except for that part where you said not to be like you. I think we should be like you. If I survived that, everyone else here can, too.” 

Xiao Gui raises an eyebrow. “I think your survival was a fluke, if you weren’t exaggerating about Xukun’s training.” 

“Flukes are luck. But the harder you work, the luckier you are,” Bu Fan declares, looking very satisfied with his statement. “From now on, our training will be from hell. This is going to be the best of the five challenges.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Qin Fen agrees, extending a hand into their seated circle. “All in favour of hell for the next few days?” 

One by one, the other members of the team lean in with their arms outstretched. 

Zheng Ruibin, their team’s chosen point (because, might Xiao Gui add, he’s their only navigator) initiates the cheer. Seven hands are raised to the ceiling in a show of morale. As much as Xiao Gui has never been much for sentiment, encouraging or otherwise, he’s glad for it now. It reminds him that, perhaps, this place isn’t wholly irredeemable, after all. 

As they all stand, Cai Xukun immediately goes to work programming a Sim to practice with. Bu Fan looks on, all of a sudden skeptical. “On second thought, maybe I’d rather go to hell than let Xukun tell me how to train.” 

Xiao Gui looks at him and grins. “Well, hell won’t have anything on us once we’re done.” 


	19. dumb show (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dumb show—fan chengcheng  
> everything's alright yeah maybe gonna be alright.

Fan Chengcheng’s dreams are full of dark alleys and bright, flashing lights, so it’s no wonder when he wakes with a start and drenched in cool sweat. His heavy breathing seems to echo through their silent dorm, and a few seconds of it rouses Justin, who reaches out for him groggily. 

“Cheng?” the younger boy mumbles, cracking open one eye in the dark. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Chengcheng breathes. “It’s okay.” 

Justin says something unintelligible before lapsing back into sleep, an arm draped over his shoulder protectively. Chengcheng draws his blankets up tighter around himself, adding to his newfound sense of security. They had begun sharing the lower bunk about a week ago; Chengcheng’s incessant thrashing was proving a nuisance to everyone. When Justin offered to sleep by him, despite how cramped it turned out to be, Chengcheng couldn’t turn it down. 

And it  _ has _ helped. He moves around less, for one; maybe, he knows subconsciously that there’s someone next to him and he shouldn’t kick his imaginary assailants lest he kick his best friend instead.

Chengcheng curls up in the small space, his back pressed against the wall and his face towards the blanket pile that is Justin. He doesn’t know how long he lies there, listening to Justin snore and Zhengting mutter something (is it  _ mom _ ?) in his sleep. Eventually, though, he drifts off and dreams of nothing until the alarm goes off. 

“Sleep well?” his teammates all ask him the same question. Chengcheng has learned to just nod and smile by now, but it is getting a little bit more truthful. 

At breakfast, the atmosphere is more relaxed than he expects. It’s the morning of the third eliminations, after all; the remaining thirty-five trainees will be reduced to a mere twenty. Yet, they laugh and joke with one another as if they haven’t a care in the world. It’s because they’re numb, Chengcheng thinks—they’ve already survived two rounds, and that’s a feat in and of itself. For those who know that Team 9 is out of their reach, they’re happy with this. It’s not fair, to be sure, but what can one do but accept the world they live in? He should know. 

In the Amphitheatre, Chengcheng sits at the very end of their group, beside Justin, who is next to Zhengting next to Quanzhe next to Zeren next to Wenjun next to Xinchun. They’re the last intact group save the Qin’s four; Trainee18 has lost over half of their members, Gramarie a quarter, and some smaller companies like SJR have only one person left to represent them.

“Why are we getting eliminated before we do our mentorships?” Chengcheng hears a passing trainee, Yang Feitong complain. “Does that make sense to you?” 

“I think they just need something to air,” Lou Zibo replies. “Honestly, who even cares what they do, anymore? We won’t make it to Team Nine; we should just make the best of what we have.” 

Chengcheng is numb to those words, too, though once upon a time he may have felt guilty that Yang Feitong, a better navigator than him, and Lou Zibo, a better combatant, will be eliminated while he is allowed to stay safely in the top nine. Now, he isn’t so sure he cares. If he has learned anything since coming to Dachang nearly three months ago, it’s that he is in control of nothing save himself. 

The eliminations begin shortly thereafter. Chengcheng is called up in third place, as he has been every single time ranks were relevant for the past three months. The seat, never comfortable, is cold and hard as he sits down, a not-so-subtle reminder that he can never relax, not when the cameras are rolling and the people are watching and he is stuck in this dumb chair playing a mute in a dumb show—

He takes a deep breath, and the moment passes. 

Justin comes in second place this round of eliminations, where previously that title had been occupied by the nymph, Chen Linong, who has dropped to fifth. Unsurprisingly, Cai Xukun is first, as if his ordeal and three-day hospital stay were nothing. Chengcheng still wonders about that, from time to time—Zhengting is definitely keeping things from them. 

This time, when the candidates for the final spot in the top twenty are announced, the Almost is Zhou Yanchen of Gramarie. Chengcheng had been hoping it could be one of three members of his team that they left behind—Ding Zeren, Huang Xinchun, or Li Quanzhe—but it would have made no difference, anyway. Twenty-first place doesn’t make the cut, no matter how close they are. 

There are significantly fewer tears this time than there had been the last two times. Xinchun cries a little bit, Quanzhe quite a bit more, but Zeren not at all. Zeren’s eyes are dry and smoldering, and Chengcheng looks away from them when he hugs him, knowing that they are angry. Not for himself but for Zhou Yanchen, who worked half to death for nothing, who fell victim to the stupid system they were trapped in—

Chengcheng realizes he hasn’t felt anything but fear and resignation in a long time. 

He hasn’t felt rage in a long time. 

He feels it now. It’s a tentative thing, but it’s there, and he has no idea if he wants it. 

They are dismissed from the Amphitheatre. As they trickle out with the rest of the grey-suited trainees, Zhengting says, “Well, now we have the workshops with our mentors for a week.” His excitement sounds a little bit forced, as if overcompensating for the somber mood. “Wanna go see the rosters?”

“Yes,” they chorus. Quanzhe’s voice is still a little bit choked from crying. Chengcheng slings an arm over his shoulder and he feels Quanzhe’s hand come up and give his forearm a squeeze. It is mutual understanding that it will be okay. Justin comes up on his other side doing the same to him as he is doing to Quanzhe. They form a human wall as they walk down the hall side by side, arm over shoulder.

For the untelevised evaluator workshops, each mentor chose their team of seven trainees they believed were most suitable for what they had to offer them in terms of skills. The decisions are posted in the foyer of the dormitory building for all to see. Chengcheng crowds in with the rest of his team and searches for his name. 

He sees it immediately: directly under the name Zhou Jieqiong in bold, blue print. Zhou Jieqiong chose him.

“I have Zhou Jieqiong too.” Wenjun reaches over Zeren’s head to offer Chengcheng a high-five, which he takes. “This’ll be fun.” 

They part ways in the training hall, Chengcheng and Wenjun heading into the room bearing Zhou Jieqiong’s name. They’re the first to arrive, and they wait as the trainees begin trickling in. They have Xu Sheng’en and Yue Yue, tacticians, and Yu Mingjun, a combatant, as well as Jeffrey Dong and Li Xikan, navigators. It’s relatively balanced, although it’s not like how they perform together in a Sim matters, this time. It’s just lessons.

Zhou Jieqiong arrives shortly thereafter, dressed from head to toe in combat gear and looking every bit the famed professional she is. It’s a bit incongruous from the image she dons for regular lessons, dressed as casually as normal teenage girls do. Her authority sometimes makes Chengcheng forget that she’s only nineteen, just over a year older than him, and now is definitely one of those times. 

“Alright, everyone.” She stands in front of them imposingly and claps her hands together. “I hope no one here has any complaints about being in my class. I chose all of you guys for a reason.” 

“We have no complaints whatsoever,” Chengcheng promises her on behalf of the entire group. 

She smiles and meets his gaze intently; the curl of her lips is very clearly suggestive. “Perfect. Let’s see how much your combat skills have improved.” 

They spend the next half hour demonstrating to her, one by one, their combative abilities. As expected, Yu Mingjun is by far the best, although Jeffrey isn’t too far behind and Chengcheng isn’t half bad, either. Li Xikan is definitely better than he used to be, but still slow on the uptake, and combat has never exactly been Wenjun’s strong suit as a long-ranged support for their team. Yue Yue and Xu Sheng’en don’t do amazingly, either; as primary tacticians, they likely haven’t spent too much time honing these skills. 

“It’s almost unrecognizable from when you guys first came here, at least,” Zhou Jieqiong comments, tapping her fingers against her chin. “Alright. I’ll show you guys some group drills that I use to practice, and then I’ll do some one-on-one lessons.” 

She demonstrates a strategy for dealing with wolf variety Gatekeepers for them, and programs a Sim for them to practice, but not before she slays one herself. Chengcheng watches her movements, fixated; she moves with grace, strength, and decisiveness all at the same time, her fox’s orb dancing around her arms as if it has a mind of its own. 

“You guys can begin, now,” she announces. Then, she points a beckoning finger at Chengcheng. “Fan Chengcheng, you’re with me first. We’ll go to another room.” She turns to address the other trainees. “The one-on-one sessions will be half an hour each. See you guys then.” 

Chengcheng follows her out of the room and into an empty, adjacent training room, anticipation welling up inside of him. He shuts the door behind them. “Thank you for choosing me, Teacher Zhou.” 

“Call me Zhou Jieqiong,” she says dismissively. She scans him up and down. “You must know why.” 

“My abilities,” he answers. She gives no clue as to whether or not he answered correctly. “I was hoping you would have answers.” 

She shrugs. “Luck of the draw, probably. You’re not a true huli jing, no; you just have some of the powers. Where they come from isn’t important, at this point. You have them, and that won’t change. It’s how you use them that matters now.” 

She’s right, Chengcheng tells himself. It drives the doubt away a little more. “I was also hoping that you could teach me.” 

“That’s precisely what I’m about to do.” Jieqiong smiles again. “You’re an interesting case, Fan Chengcheng. I hope you know that.” 

He swallows. “Is it a good kind of interesting?” 

She laughs. It’s a melodic sound that’s oddly sinister, although Chengcheng has no idea where he’s getting that from. “Well, I think so. Not all do.” 

“I’m well aware,” he says.  _ More than well. _

“That’s good,” she says. “Awareness is always a good thing. Although, we’re often less aware than we think.” 

Chengcheng only nods. Why is she being so cryptic? 

“Now, onto business.” She snaps her fingers and in the space between them a fox’s orb ignites into existence as a soft, blue glow. It expands until it’s the size of a soccer ball, approximately. “Conjure your orb.” 

Chengcheng raises a hand and splays his fingers. On his palm, his own fox’s orb blooms, a darker shade of blue than Jieqiong’s and a little smaller. It’ll get bigger and brighter with practice, he thinks. 

“Not bad at all,” she muses. “Show me what you can do with it.” 

Chengcheng complies, raising his arm and flinging it out across the training room. The orb soars through the room, but just before it would collide with the wall opposite them, he concentrates and recalls it, the ball of light returning to his palm. He follows up with splitting the orb up into tongues of bright blue foxfire, which station themselves around them in a circle, flickering.

“You’re more advanced than I expected,” says Jieqiong. “There really isn’t much I can teach you. You just need to practice.” 

“I heard that huli jing can conjure illusions,” Chengcheng offers. Perhaps that’s something he can learn. 

“But you’re not a huli jing. What you have is what you have, and you’ve already taken it to its full potential,” she responds. “I can practice with you, though; you’ll improve quickly.” 

“Alright,” he says. On the surface, he nods compliantly, but he can’t fool himself when he thinks that he isn’t disappointed. “Thank you, Teach—uh, Jieqiong.”

They spend the next twenty minutes sparring with his abilities. Jieqiong is a vicious fighter, which is why, of course, she’s a combat evaluator. Despite being much smaller and lighter than him, she’s without a doubt quicker and commands her abilities far better. When Chengcheng maneuvers his fox’s orb to follow her, he realizes that he’ll never be able to keep up at his present level of skill. He still lacks the precision and familiarity with his abilities. 

Something’s off, though, he thinks, as he ducks under Jieqiong’s offense. A few minutes ago, she’d taught him how to use his orb as a shield and he does now when she tries to sweep his legs out from under him with her own. The orb flattens and expands to cover the area he commands it to, repelling the attack. 

She’s not using her full abilities, he realizes. That shouldn’t be a surprise to him, given that she’s the mentor; it’s normal that she would go easy on him. Even so, however, something is setting off Chengcheng’s instincts and he needs to find out what. 

He throws a jab at Jieqiong, which she avoids easily. With his other hand, he pulls his orb in for an attack, but as Jieqiong moves to dodge he turns it into a feint and splits it, one half of the orb making contact with her abdomen. 

She ripples. 

Chengcheng stops, recalling his orbs, which recombine into one. He extinguishes it and stares at Zhou Jieqiong, who is gone. Completely. 

“Teacher Zhou?” he asks nervously. Where did she go? Did he hurt her? 

“Impressive, Fan Chengcheng.” Her voice comes from behind him. He whips around to see her smiling. “You really didn’t pull any punches.” 

“I’m sorry, Teacher Zhou, I didn’t mean to actually hit you,” he tries quickly, but she shakes her head. 

“Don’t worry about that,” she says. “You did well.” 

“Thank you,” he says. Emboldened by her nonchalance, he asks, “What was that just now? How did you just disappear like that?” 

“Easy,” she says. “I’m not a huli jing.” 

Chengcheng stares at her and blinks a few times. “Don’t joke with me, Teacher.” 

She shrugs, taking one step closer. “I’m not a huli jing, Fan Chengcheng. I’m not joking around with you. Think about it, and it’ll make sense to you.”

He does as told and thinks, and she’s right. His mouth widens into a surprised O when he comes to the realization of just why she was not using the full extent of her abilities—it’s because she can’t. 

“You’re an illusionist,” he says, a little incredulous of the words that just came out of his mouth. “Everything is fake.” 

She smiles again. “Correct. And, trainee Fan Chengcheng, what exactly is an illusionist?” 

The least common, worst kind of witch, he thinks immediately, because that’s what he’s been told constantly. He meets Jieqiong’s eyes, and suddenly sees there what she must see in his—how could he not have noticed earlier? 

“You chose to be a huli jing because that’s more acceptable.” 

“As far as the world is concerned, there was never a choice,” she says. “I am a huli jing.” 

“Why pretend?” The second the words come out of his mouth, he feels stupid. He would pretend in her shoes, too; why choose to be loathed when you can choose to be celebrated? 

“Because I can.” 

Chengcheng raises his eyebrows. “Is that all?” 

“It is, when you have nothing to prove.” She tilts her head. “Of course, it won’t always be that way, but while you have the chance to use the full extent of your talents, use that time wisely. Times change.” 

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” he blurts out. 

“Pretending to be someone you’re not?” she questions, to confirm. Chengcheng nods. “Trying to please the public? Absolutely. You can’t please everyone. So work on pleasing yourself. Take that from me. There’s something that can be said of being numb to prejudices, and you shouldn’t ever find yourself there.” 

“I’m already there.” The words tumble out before he can stop them. He sounds bitter and edgy and everything he doesn’t want to sound. “What do I do, then?”

“Oh, I can tell you, you’re not there yet.” She laughs, and she’s more bitter. “You’re angry. And still scared. The people who are there are the ones who feel nothing. There is no more anger, no more dismay, no more pain. Nothing.” 

Chengcheng takes a step back. “Why are you telling me all of this?” 

“I’m merely doing my job,” she says. “You call me teacher for a reason.” 

He’s still suspicious, because he knows what this programme is capable of. For all he knows, although this is supposed to be one of the unsurveilled practice rooms, whatever he says could still be televised. Hidden cameras and microphones are nothing out of the ordinary here, in the same way that Jieqiong trying to bait him into saying something against himself might have a place at Dachang, as well.

She sees straight through him. “You’re right not to trust me,” she says wryly. “Trusting too easily is never a good thing.” 

“But why me?” 

Her gaze turns more serious as she meets his. “Like I said, I’m doing my job,” she says. “And my job includes making the best possible team of explorers and sending them to the Frontier. And, Fan Chengcheng, you’ve demonstrated outstanding potential. That’s all there is to it.” 

Chengcheng stays silent, taking in the information that he vaguely recognizes as praise. Jieqiong, however, misunderstands; “You don’t believe me? Fine. There is another reason, albeit a little more selfish.” She pauses. “As an evaluator, I’m not supposed to prefer one trainee over another due to purely circumstantial reasons. But as you can see, I favour you because of what we share, just as you must’ve noticed that Zhang Yixing favours Cai Xukun and Jackson favours Qin Fen. They’ve shared hardships.” 

“And what have we shared?” But he already knows the answer. 

“You and I are both excellent liars, Chengcheng,” says Jieqiong. “But there’s hope for you, yet.” 

Chengcheng nods and understands. 

“The world isn’t fair, and never will be,” says Zhou Jieqiong. “I just want to see you make the most of it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one of the hardest chapters to write since it's supposed to be a major turning point in chengcheng's arc (hence why the entire chapter is dedicated to his perspective) and i hope i did his characterization justice,, lmk if something is off or if anything otherwise is wrong with the chapter pls it's important 
> 
> next chapter is gonna be a side one (kinda like the yanren one) that, like the last, demanded to be written so bear with me here TvT


	20. bonus - for your birthday, we broke the law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was inspired by the surprise the trainees threw for zhengting's birthday back in the day and honestly i just wanted to experiment with writing something fun and lighthearted that also expands a bit on the worldbuilding (which, if i had to be completely honest, i have no idea what's going on with anymore).
> 
> anyhow, hope you enjoy this! we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon <3 
> 
> (ps. for legal reasons this is all just a joke)

Bi Wenjun has no idea how Justin convinced him to sneak out of Dachang with him in the middle of the night, but what comes as a greater surprise to him is the sheer size of the crowd he's gathered for his illicit excursion in the name of Zhu Zhengting's birthday. Among the trainees gathered in the fourth floor practice room he spies Fan Chengcheng (of course), Qian Zhenghao from Younger Culture, and even the dragonling Cai Xukun, whom Wenjun could have sworn Zhengting despised with a passion. 

"What's the plan, Justin?" asks Xu Sheng'en, from Mercury Nation. He's bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, as if impossibly eager to break the rules. 

"We've only got until six o'clock in the morning, so it gives us about five hours to get everything done," says Justin. "Thanks to our friend here, Qin Fen, we've been able to call ahead for the cake. We just need a couple of people to go pick it up from the bakery." 

"I had no idea bakeries were open at this time," says Qian Zhenghao innocently.

"They aren't," says Chengcheng, never the type to coddle like Zhengting often does with the younger members of the team. "Don't look at me like I just killed someone—we're still paying."

"Exact change," Justin confirms. "Anyone wanna take on that part of the job?" 

Qin Fen raises a hand. “Since I placed the order, I can go. I just need someone to drive.”

"Well, we can sort that one out later." Justin pulls a clipboard from seemingly nowhere, scratching off the word  _ cake  _ scrawled on it in his untidy print. "We'll also need two more teams; one to the twenty-four hour supermarket and another to break into Yuehua. I'll be-" 

Wenjun cuts him off by grabbing his shoulders from behind. "Breaking into Yuehua?" he hisses. "You didn't tell me we'd be doing that!" 

Justin laughs. "Relax, Wenjun-ge. We've got everything mapped out, Chengcheng and I. We're just getting into our dorms." 

"What's in the dorms?" he asks, exasperated. What are they thinking,  _ breaking into Yuehua?  _

"We bought the gift for Zhengting ages ago," Justin explains. "We couldn't bring it because we realized the staff would go through our luggage." 

"So you've been planning this since  _ before _ we came to Dachang?"

Justin grins. He has the decency to look a little sheepish. "Yes and no. We had the idea. We didn't plan it until, like, a week ago." 

Wenjun inhales deeply. "You know this could get us disqualified, right?"

Justin shrugs. "Maybe. But I think you know as well as I do how this place works by now. My bet is that I'm safe from disqualification. Chengcheng's safe. Chen Linong is safe. Cai Xukun is so safe that they'd sooner expel Commander Zhang than him." 

"And the rest of us want to do something fun, for once," Qin Fen supplies, for those whose names were not mentioned, which includes him, Wang Ziyi, Qian Zhenghao, Zhu Xingjie, and Xu Sheng'en. "Plus, we love Zhengting."

Wenjun can only sigh. "Okay," he acquiesces. "But I'm going with you two to Yuehua." 

"We were hoping you'd say that," says Chengcheng. "We need someone to drive." 

"Alright, we've got one chauffeur." Justin crosses something else off his page. "We'll also need someone to drive to the bakery and another to the supermarket. Who else can drive?" 

Zhu Xingjie raises his hand. Qin Fen says, “I know someone who can.” 

"Are they cool with sneaking out of Dachang?" 

"I mean, Jeffrey's cool with basically anything." 

Justin grins. "Great. So, Fen-ge and Jie-ge will go to the bakery to get the cake. Who wants to go to the supermarket?" 

"Well, we should leave the breaking into Yuehua part to you Yuehua kids, shouldn't we?" Xu Sheng'en asks. "You guys go to Yuehua and the rest of us can just go to the supermarket." 

Justin thinks on that and shares a glance with Chengcheng. "We'll take Kun-ge with us," he decides. "That way, if we get caught someone can blow something up so we can get away." 

"We are not getting caught, and no one is blowing anything up," Wenjun admonishes. 

"Ideally not," says Chengcheng. "But Xukun will be useful anyway." 

"Are those the teams, then?" asks Zhu Xingjie. "Qin Fen and I will go get the cake; Jeffrey, Zhenghao, Sheng'en, Ziyi, and Linong will go to the supermarket; and you three Yuehua kids and Xukun will go to Yuehua?" 

"Wait," says Justin. "We need some people to get the room ready and make sure people stay out of it. Chengcheng and I have some decorations already because we've been intercepting Zhengting's fanmail, and the rest of the stuff we'll get from the supermarket." 

"I can stay behind and get decorating," offers Qian Zhenghao, as Chen Linong is about to speak. "Linong is safe but I don't think I'd survive getting caught sneaking off campus." 

"That's a good point," says Xingjie. "I'll go wake the Banana guys up and get them to help you here." 

"What about Xiao Gui?" asks Qin Fen. 

Xingjie laughs. "It’s impossible to wake him if he’s already asleep. We should also get going soon if we want to get everything done in time.” 

"Right!" says Justin. "We've already found the cars we want to jack- er, borrow." 

Wenjun groans. "How many illegal things are we doing tonight?" 

"Three?" Chengcheng shrugs. "It's for Zhengting. Besides, get a life, Wenjun. We need to do things like this once in a while to really be living." 

"Whatever you say." 

And that's how Bi Wenjun finds himself in the Dachang parking lot five minutes later, standing in front of a shiny sports car. The others have left already; Xingjie gets into cars like they're unlocked doors. 

"You had to choose such an expensive one?" Wenjun asks skeptically as Justin passes him the keys. "And who'd you steal these from?" 

"This one was  _ actually _ borrowed," Justin says proudly. "From Teacher Jin." 

"You guys asked and he let you?" He stares at the keys and the car incredulously. "How?" 

"Great minds think alike," says Chengcheng. "Now get in and get going." 

Wenjun gets into the car in a daze and puts the key in the ignition. Nothing about this nght seems real, he thinks, as Cai Xukun slides into shotgun and Justin and Chengcheng load into the back giddily. He is driving  _ Jin Au-yeung _ ’s sports car in the middle of the night to sneak out of Dachang and break into the Yuehua dorms. For Zhengting’s birthday presents. 

Leaving campus is surprisingly easy. At the checkpoint, there is no security, and the bar that would be impeding them is inexplicably risen. 

“You guys had something to do with this, too, didn’t you?” Wenjun asks, looking at his two younger teammates in the rearview mirror. 

Justin shakes his head, grinning, and points to Xukun. “Nah, it was him.”

“You did this?” Wenjun raises an eyebrow. 

Chengcheng answers for him, “You have no idea how many fans this guy has; people are ready to do anything for him, so a couple of little favours like this is nothing.”

Xukun looks a little abashed at their explanations. “It’s nothing of the sort, really,” he tries to rectify Wenjun’s impression, but to be honest, he isn’t really surprised. Cai Xukun has it all—prodigious skill, a wealth of experience, powerful status. Not to mention he’s very easy on the eyes. 

It’ll take them over two hours to reach the Yuehua headquarters, even speeding aggressively and without the daytime traffic. This entire time, Wenjun tries not to doze off while Chengcheng and Justin snore away in the back seats and Xukun stares straight ahead. To keep himself busy (and awake), he strikes up a conversation with the dragonling. 

“So, how are you?” he asks.  _ Gods, I’m awkward. _

“I’m doing fine, you?” Xukun answers, totally textbook.  _ Thank the gods this guy’s just as bad. _

“Same,” says Wenjun. He tries his best to think of a conversation topic, and comes up with only one: “So, uh, are you friends with Zhengting?” 

The curl of Xukun’s lips, Wenjun sees out of the corner of his eye, is contemplative. “I’d like to think so,” he says. “But I have to admit, I’m not great with people.” 

Wenjun gives that some thought. To be honest, he hasn’t spoken with Zhengting too much lately. They aren’t in the same dorm, and they’re both always training. A while ago, Wenjun actually ran into Zhengting at the cafeteria at breakfast time, later than when the leader usually eats, and thought that maybe there’d be a chance to sit down and eat together. Except Zhengting blew past him, grabbed at least six different types of food in different containers, and promptly rushed back to the dorms as if some important purpose awaited him there. 

“Well, Zhengting usually makes it pretty obvious,” he says. 

“If that’s the case, we’re friends now. Can’t tell you the same about when we first met, though.” 

Wenjun laughs. “That’s for sure.” He decides he likes Cai Xukun, whose awkwardness is maybe just moderate. “On another note, how’d you get roped into doing this?”

Xukun shrugs. “Justin’s convincing. Besides, it’s the least I can do for Zhengting.” 

“Oh, so now the  _ least _ you can do for a friend is breaking the law,” Wenjun says. “Not to mention contest regulations.” 

“I’m just returning the favour.”

Wenjun isn’t sure what  _ that _ ’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t pursue it. They spend the rest of the drive in relatively pleasant conversation, while Justin and Chengcheng’s quiet mumblings and the sound of the vehicle speeding over the highway undercut their voices. When they begin nearing Yuehua Research’s headquarters, Wenjun wakes his younger teammates and asks them for the plan. 

“So, there’s a side door they use to get deliveries and stuff,” Justin starts to explain groggily, “and basically, Chengcheng and I just want to sneak in through there. We just need to disable the cameras.” 

“And how are you planning to do that?” Wenjun questions, turning. He’s beginning to feel more and more skeptical about this whole thing now that they’re about to put it into action. 

“Justin’s going to knock them out temporarily with his powers,” says Chengcheng. “I’m sure someone’s going to notice that, though, which is why we need someone else to cause a diversion so that they investigate that instead of us.” 

“Leave the diversion to me,” Xukun speaks up suddenly. “Believe it or not, I have experience.” 

Wenjun purses his lips. “What kind of experience?” 

“I used to be signed with Yihai,” Xukun says coolly. 

Justin translates: “He knows how to mess shit up because his old bosses were assholes. Naturally, you need to get back at them somehow.” 

Chengcheng cackles. “Perfect. Justin will knock out the cameras, Xukun will cause the diversion, and we’ll get into the building.” 

“Right,” says Justin. “Afterwards, it might be a little difficult to actually get to our dorms because of the cameras around, but there’s actually only one part of our route that we actually have to worry about being monitored at. The rest of our route is mapped out carefully to avoid all the cameras we know of.” 

“‘We know of.’”

Justin rolls his eyes. “Come on, Bi Wenjun. It’s going to be fine. Hell, even if we’re caught, what are they gonna do? It’s our own company; they would hate to see us disqualified, because how are they going to rake in cash, then?” 

“Then why don’t we just waltz in through the front doors, if you put it that way?” Wenjun almost throws up his hands from the steering wheel in exasperation. 

“We still have to have some shame,” Chengcheng responds serenely. “Anyway, let’s just park here. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Wenjun pulls Jin Au-yeung’s car into a street parking space about a block away from the Yuehua building. The four of them clamber out of the vehicle and head towards their destination in a very suspicious-looking cluster. 

Yuehua’s headquarters comprise one tall glass-and-steel building that houses all the essentials to the company’s main operations; this includes trainee dormitories and training facilities, laboratories and archives rooms, and an R&D department. It’s just their luck, of course, that the dormitories are located on the top two floors of the building, and they have the choice between risking an elevator or climbing twenty flights. 

“Our plans say elevator,” says Chengcheng in a low voice, as they hide out behind a big dumpster in the alley the side door opens to. “There are cameras in the stairwells, too, Wenjun.”

Justin nods in agreement, earnestly. “We’ll just put up our hoods and they might just think we’re trainees coming back from a night out. Hell, if we’re lucky, they’ll just think we’re Xinchun and Quanzhe and Zeren.”

“None of us are short enough to look like Zeren,” Wenjun points out. “Besides, aren’t they doing press in Shanghai right now? They wouldn’t even be here.” 

“Wenjun, you should know us better than this.” Chengcheng sighs. “We do something, and think about it later. Usually, it works out just fine.” 

Wenjun looks to Xukun for help, and finds nothing of the sort. The dragonling has been watching their entire exchange with a mildly amused expression. “I trust them,” he says. “Besides, this is all in good fun anyway, right?” 

_ Gods, he’s secretly crazy too, isn’t he?  _ Wenjun sends a silent prayer to whatever deity may be listening and sighs. “Right. All in good fun.” 

“Great.” Justin grins wickedly and claps his hands together. “On the count of three, I’ll disable the lock and cameras with my powers, and you and Chengcheng will head straight for the service elevators. Believe it or not, we can actually ride it with our trainee passes.” 

“You know this how?” 

“Enough questions.” Justin starts to stand. “One, two,  _ three _ !” 

Justin jumps to his feet and swipes his hand through the air, clenching into a fist at the end of the arc. Wenjun feels a shockwave of Justin’s psychic powers ripple through the air and decides  _ screw it, here goes nothing _ and bolts out from behind the dumpster, following Chengcheng with Justin behind him. 

“The next part is up to you, Kun-ge!” Justin whispers-shouts to Xukun, who gives him a thumbs up. They reach the door, and it opens with no resistance. 

“What’s he going to do?” Wenjun asks. 

Chengcheng laughs quietly, waving at them in the direction of the elevator. Alarms have yet to sound. They pull up their hoods “Once they notice there’s something wrong, he’ll set a dumpster fire. They’ll go investigate that and give us some time to get the stuff and get out.” 

This time, Wenjun knows better than to question it. 

They get into the elevator without much of a problem. Justin punches the number twenty button and Chengcheng covers up the camera quickly with a cap. They stand close together and silently as they wait with bated breath to reach their destination. 

The doors open, and Justin takes the first step into the hall. No sooner than when Wenjun, the last one out, steps onto the floor, sirens ring out through the building. 

“Shit, let’s just run,” Chengcheng decides. He breaks into a sprint down the hall, where their dorms are located past the rooms occupied by younger trainees. 

Wenjun and Justin follow close behind, and their keycards out and the door unlocking just as they hear a voice call, “Look, they’re going into the geges’ room!” 

Wenjun turns too look around, which might be a mistake because now they know precisely who it is. “Wenjun-ge?” asks Guo Dianjia, who stands in the doorway of the younger trainees’ dorms in his pajamas. 

Wenjun is panicking, but he does his best to hide it. He puts a finger to his lips and takes a step closer to Dianjia while ushering Chengcheng and Justin inside.

“Listen, Dianjia,” he says quietly, “we’re here for something really important. Something for Zhengting. Can you promise gege that you won’t tell anyone that we were here?” 

Zhang Minghao and Zhang Junyi are in the doorway now, too. “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere you can’t leave, Wenjun-ge?” the latter questions suspiciously. As the eldest and leader of the next-generation team Yuehua is training, he treats the situation with more scrutiny. 

“Yes,” Wenjun admits. At fourteen, they’re not actually that much younger than Justin (sixteen), so there is really no point in trying to fool them. The sirens fade into the background “But we decided to break the rules. I know that sounds bad, but we’re doing it for Zhengting because it’s his birthday and we wanted to do something nice for him. We’re willing to break the rules for that.” 

The three look at each other, communicating silently like Wenjun can with his teammates. Zhang Junyi speaks for all of them: “We have something for Zhengting-ge, too. Minghao, can you go get it?” 

The younger boy nods and disappears back into the dorms before returning with a hastily gift wrapped rectangle. “It was in case Zhengting-ge came back by now,” Dianjia explains. “But it’s good that he’s still in.” 

“We’ve been watching,” Minghao adds. “Good luck, ge.” 

Wenjun takes the box from his hands with a smile. “Thanks, you guys. Next thing you know, it’ll be you guys there.” 

Junyi snorts. “No thanks. I’d rather just form a team straightaway.” 

Wenjun opens his mouth but is met with Justin dashing into the hall. “We gotta go, but they’ve probably disabled the elevator by now. Oh, hey, Dianjia, Minghao, Junyi.”

“If they’ve disabled the elevator, how are we supposed to leave? Twenty flights of stairs?” Wenjun snaps. Chengcheng is here now, too, carrying two big gift bags. 

Justin shares a glance with Junyi. Something passes between them. The latter nods, and then says, “Come in, ge. We’ve got you.” 

Wenjun, Chengcheng, and Justin follow them into their dorms, directly across their shared living space to a large window. Junyi unlocks it, removes the screen deftly, and flings it open at the night air. 

“Okay, Justin-ge can go first by himself with the presents,” he says authoritatively. “Dianjia and I can help Chengcheng-ge and Wenjun-ge get down.” 

It takes a moment for Wenjun to realize what they’ve planned. Zhang Junyi and Guo Dianjia are both shapeshifters—Junyi can turn into a hawk, and Dianjia a raven, like Zeren. 

“Gods, we are not jumping out the window,” Wenjun says. 

“You’re not jumping,” Junyi corrects. “We’re carrying you.” 

Justin grins. “Thanks, we owe you guys one.” He climbs onto the windowsill. “Plus, this is away from where Xukun is, so we won’t get caught.” 

“Xukun?” Minghao asks. “Like Cai Xukun? The dragonling?” 

“Yup,” says Chengcheng. “He’s helping us out, too.” 

“Can you get me his autograph?” 

Justin laughs. “Sure. See you guys later.” 

He slips out. Wenjun sticks his head out of the window and peers down just in time to see Justin slow his fall to a smooth landing with his abilities. He waves up at them. 

“Your turn, Wenjun-ge.” Dianjia is coming up from behind him. “You can jump, and I’ll catch you.” 

“Are you sure about this?” Wenjun asks. “You won’t let me die?” 

Dianjia smiles cutely. “Of course not.” 

_ Well, what the hell _ . Wenjun climbs up into the window frame, steels himself, and lets go. 

For a brief second, he’s freefalling through the air from the twentieth floor. Then, he feels something sharp dig into his shoulders through his clothing, and he glances to the side to see talons, and up to see a giant black bird flapping its wings and slowing his fall. They descend smoothly to the ground, and Dianjia deposits him next to Justin softly, before flying back up to their floor. 

Wenjun follows his ascent with his eyes until he sees Chengcheng, carried by a giant hawk Junyi, who turns into a human again as he drops his load off. 

“Remember to win,” the kid says coolly, before reverting to a bird and taking his leave. 

Justin cackles. “This kid will make such a great leader when they’re ready,” he says. He hands part of his present load to Wenjun. “Now, to find Kun-ge and get the hell outta here.” 

“We’ve got to be quick.” Wenjun checks his watch. “If we want to be back at Dachang by six, we have to start heading back within the next ten minutes.” 

“Will do,” says Justin. “Chengcheng, this part’s up to you.” 

Chengcheng nods, smiling mischievously. “He knows the signal?” 

“Yeah, told him.” 

At this point, Wenjun has given up questioning entirely. 

Chengcheng snaps softly, and a tongue of blue flame flares to life on his fingertips—foxfire. He flicks it up into the air, where it soars high until it can’t even be seen anymore, before it explodes into a shower of sparks well above the Yuehua building. 

“He’ll know to meet us by the car, now,” Justin explains. “Let’s go.” 

They keep to the shadows and make it back to Jin Au-yeung’s sports car without attracting any more attention than they already have; by this point, half the lights in the building are on and there’s a fire in the dumpster in the alley, with several people beginning to attempt to put it out. 

Cai Xukun is already waiting by the car, leaning against a tree inconspicuously. He smiles when he sees them. “Everything went well?” 

“Perfectly,” Justin chirps, and Chengcheng echoes agreement. Wenjun laughs, though he thinks he might sound a bit hysterical. 

The drive back to Dachang is excited for the first bit, before everyone lapses into sleep. Wenjun struggles to keep his eyes open for the last half hour, the fear of crashing their  _ evaluator _ ’s car the only thing keeping him awake. 

Back at the campus, the others have already returned and the room for Zhengting’s surprise is fully decorated by a proud Qian Zhenghao, with the help of the three remaining Banana Research trainees, who apparently  _ love _ confetti. The cake is in the fridge, Zhu Xingjie informs them, so they set the presents they returned with on the table. 

“This is great, guys!” Justin claps his hands together, delighted. “Zhengting is gonna love it! We’ll get him here after breakfast, got it?” 

The group choruses acknowledgement, before going their separate ways to catch the last little bit of sleep possible. At breakfast, everyone slips out of the cafeteria earlier than they usually do, lying in wait for Zhengting. 

It’s Qin Fen who brings him in when everyone’s one standby, and the look on Zhengting’s face when he sees them is enough for Wenjun. Enough to convince him that everything they did the night before was worth it if he could see Zhengting so happy, so touched every day. He’d do it again and again if it meant that Zhengting would smile like this every time he did. 

“Happy Birthday, Zhengting!” they chorus together, as Zhengting leans against the wall to steady himself, tears brimming in his eyes. Zhu Xingjie unveils the cake while Justin and Chengcheng together form a large heart with their arms. Qian Zhenghao and Chen Linong rearrange the presents and invite him to open them. Wang Ziyi and Cai Xukun stand to the side silently, smiling as they look on. 

“You guys didn’t have to,” he says, his voice tight. He looks at Wenjun. “How did you get all of this?” 

Wenjun laughs. “Don’t ask me. I was just the driver.”


	21. the time we're alive (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the time we're alive—zhu zhengting  
> people are actually really hard to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it was recently brought to my attention that i didn't update this in september... so yeah out of guilt and shame i present to you chapter 19 without proofreading... 
> 
> oh, and i have a couple more things to apologize for... that would be my bullshit out of context chapter summaries and my abuse of italics

To be working with Zhang Yixing is thrilling, but Xukun is a little bit uncomfortable with it. This feeling is still so foreign, he reflects, but he thinks he can get used to it and likely enjoy it. _Definitely_ enjoy it.

Though Xukun never doubted him before, seeing Yixing work up close leaves no room for it. His fundamentals are absolutely flawless, and the way he uses his powers in conjunction with his movements has Xukun in awe. He is both fluid and explosive like the water and fire he commands, and so, _so_ controlled. It is something Xukun can only dream of.

After their session, Yixing pulls him aside to speak to him alone. He sees Ziyi glance at him as he leaves with the other trainees, the corners of his mouth pulled up gently in a reassuring smile. He doesn’t deserve Ziyi, he thinks—he doesn’t deserve someone so supportive and, yet, asks nothing of him in return. 

“How are you managing your condition?” is the first thing Yixing asks him when the others have all cleared out. “Is it getting better or worse?” 

“It’s under control,” Xukun answers. “But I think it’ll keep getting worse with time. Like with all the medicines I’ve tried, the effects won’t last forever.” 

Yixing purses his lips. “Cheng Xiao is working on an improvement. Is it hindering you at all?”

Xukun shakes his head. There are no particularly uncomfortable side-effects, although the feeling of not being able to access his abilities at all for several hours a day does make him feel a little bit vulnerable. 

“Good.” Yixing looks contemplative. “Our goal is to make you something that’ll only suppress the effects without affecting how you can use your abilities. That way, you’ll be safer in the Frontier.” 

The Frontier. Xukun still doesn’t know if there is truly salvation there for him, but he can’t afford to doubt it any longer.

“Teacher,” he says tentatively, “do you believe the stories?” 

“That there are dragons in the Frontier?” He nods. “I don’t see why there won’t be. When I went, there was everything you can think of in the Frontier, Xukun. Our Simulacrums cover but the tip of the iceberg.” 

“Do you think I’ll find them?” Xukun asks. It’s a childish question asked in a childish tone, he realizes—he is just looking for encouragement. But he gets it, and he feels foolishly glad. 

“Yes,” says Yixing. “I have faith in you. You’re the best I’ve seen in a long time.” 

Xukun bows his head in thanks. Yixing puts two fingers under his chin and lifts it back up so that he is looking at him. “Just a word of advice,” he tells him, “rely on your team a little bit more. They’re your support system. Get used to it.” 

“My team?” Xukun is puzzled. _NINE_ isn’t even over yet—what does Yixing mean by _team_? 

“Well, you don’t have a finalized team yet, but I mean those around you that you can trust,” Yixing explains patiently. “They can help you a long way, I promise—trust me, I know.” 

Xukun’s heard mentions of this before—Yixing has been open about his experiences as a trainee battling dual-lineage incompatibility, and he has never forgotten to credit EXO for their support each time. But what could his friends do that his own desperate willpower and medication could not? 

“I don’t know what they can help me with,” Xukun admits. It’s become much easier to talk to Yixing, to be honest, when they are more familiar now that Xukun is fairly certain Yixing isn’t out to sabotage him in some way. “They can’t just make it go away.” 

Yixing smiles, in the way a senior smiles at his junior when the latter does something foolish. “But they can make it easier to bear. Let them cheer you up, Xukun.” 

“I _am_ letting them,” Xukun insists. Just the other day, he laughed until his stomach hurt while they played cards and Zhou Rui and Ziyi lost badly to him and Zhenghao. Ziyi took it with grace, of course, but Zhou Rui? He has his antics.

“Not enough.” Yixing sighs. “You’re an excellent fighter already. You’ll make a good leader, too, with some training. All that’s left for you to do between now and when you leave for the Frontier is enjoy life.” 

_Enjoy life_. Xukun _is_ enjoying life, he thinks, more than he ever has before. Maybe that’s why the fear of losing it has been on his mind more often.

“Thank you, Teacher.” 

“Yixing,” the commander corrects gently. “And there’s no need to thank me.” 

Xukun nods awkwardly and takes his leave hastily. 

Outside of the training room, Ziyi’s still waiting for him. “What did he want with you?” he asks.

“Nothing, really,” Xukun responds, putting on his jacket before noticing that Ziyi hasn’t moved yet. “Who are we waiting for?” 

“Zhengting, remember?” Ziyi reminds him. “You told him you were going to the convenience store with him today after practice.” 

Xukun curses himself internally for forgetting. At the same time, what Ziyi implied to him about two weeks ago—that Zhengting is _interested in him_ —makes a comeback in his mind.

He’d dismissed it at first. How could Zhengting, with whom it took a month to establish a remotely positive relationship, be interested in _him_ ? But only after his... _incident_ and seeing the way Zhengting reacted did he start considering it a possibility, and the idea makes him uncomfortable in more ways than one. 

Xukun has never been in a relationship before, and it was the last thing he expected to get out of _NINE_. Hell, he wasn’t (still isn’t) even sure if he’ll live to see the Frontier; naturally, the only thing he had on his mind coming to Dachang was his survival. 

Of course, reality turned out quite a bit differently than his expectations. Not only is he still alive, he has friends where he thought he’d be despised, allies where he thought he’d have to watch his back constantly.

So the idea of human closeness isn’t exactly what makes him uncomfortable, no. 

What makes him uncomfortable is that he thinks that maybe, just _maybe_ , he feels the same. 

What makes him uncomfortable is that a part of him wants to welcome Zhengting’s advances, if they are indeed advances, if only to experience something of the sort before he dies. 

“Earth to Xukun?” Ziyi is saying. 

Xukun blinks. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot about that.” 

“Are you avoiding him lately?” Ziyi asks, voice lowered. Xukun looks around, very aware of the cameras in the hall. 

“No,” he whispers. “Well, maybe a little bit.” 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think?”

Before Ziyi can respond, a door down the hall swings open and a long leg steps out, belonging to none other than Zhu Zhengting. “Hey guys, thanks for waiting.” 

“You ready?” Xukun asks, as cheerfully as he can and hoping it doesn’t come across too awkwardly.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Zhengting puts his hands into his pockets and they set off. 

The little convenience store they have here at Dachang doesn’t deplete nearly as quickly as it used to, when they still had one hundred trainees instead of soon-to-be twenty. There’s good and bad to that—the good thing is that he can get the snacks he wants without the hassle of coming at six in the morning (chances are someone would’ve been there before him anyway); the bad thing is that, well, there aren’t many of them left. After the week of workshops with their mentors finishes, Zhou Rui will depart Dachang, too.

 _It’s not like I thought I’d make it into Team Nine, though,_ the siren had said when it was announced that he would not make the cut into the top twenty. _So this was really just a glorified hiring fair for me where I could live for free for three months and then get a job._

Xukun buys a few packets of instant coffee and a bottle of vitamin water and waits for Zhengting and Ziyi to finish. As usual, Ziyi chooses healthy foods only, fruits and the like. Zhengting takes a bit longer and returns from the counter with two full plastic bags of snacks.

“Justin and Chengcheng eat a lot,” he explains with a sigh. “What would they ever do without me?” 

“Bullshit,” says a new voice, accompanied by the jingling of the bell on the door. It’s Justin, with Ding Zeren in tow. “I can bet that half of those snacks are for yourself.”

“Shut up, you ingrate,” Zhengting throws back. “I’ve never seen you buy a thing for me before.” 

“That’s ‘cause you’re the leader.” Justin laughs. “You knew what you signed up for.” 

Xukun, Ziyi, and Zhengting leave the store, the latter still griping about his ungrateful teammates. Xukun has to smile a bit, too; seeing the way Justin and Zhengting interact has become as much a part of his life now as training is, and he’s glad for it. It’s warm. 

“Stop that,” says Zhengting, nudging his arm. 

Xukun tilts his head. “Stop what?” 

“Thinking Justin’s funny,” Zhengting huffs in mock offense. It’s almost endearing. “Are you on his side or mine?” 

“There aren’t any sides here, Zhengting,” Ziyi chides, ever the peacemaker. “We love you both.” 

Zhengting reaches up with an occupied hand for Ziyi’s shoulder. “Oh, I know that you don’t pick favourites because you’re a nice person, Ziyi.” He shoots a glance at Xukun. “But someone else here is problematic.”

“Me?” Xukun puts a hand over his heart. “What have I done?” 

“Too many things to count,” Zhengting grumbles. The way he looks at him then, with a little bit of a pout, sends heat crashing through Xukun so quickly that he almost panics, thinking that it may be his abilities about to go haywire. But it isn’t. It’s just Zhu Zhengting. 

“I’ll work on it.” His voice is small. Then the moment passes, and Xukun tells himself that it will not happen again. 

* * *

Zeren, Quanzhe, and Xinchun leave at the end of the week, and Justin says his goodbyes with everyone else. He’s sad for them, of course, but they’re beyond tears, at this point, and so is he. Instead, there’s something else burning inside him that he feels a little bit guilty about. 

The final challenge is starting, and Justin is _excited_. 

They’re to divide the remaining twenty trainees into teams of ten and they will take part in a Simulacrum lasting nine hours, the longest they’ve attempted yet. Each of the two teams, one better suited to ability-based trainees and the other for non-abilities, will need two tacticians, five combatants, and three navigators, and they will determine these positions by reverse rank order. Starting with Rank 20, Zheng Ruibin, they will declare their positions one by one, with those ranking near the top choosing last, with the right to evict other trainees from their desired position. 

Justin is fourth; as long as he isn’t thinking of the exact same position as Fan Chengcheng, Chen Linong, or Cai Xukun, he will get what he wants. 

And he does. He’s one of two tacticians on Team 1, ability-based. Chengcheng and Zhengting both ended up on Team 2. He has Wenjun on his team, as one of their navigators. They, the four of them, will all make Team 9 together, he tells himself—they’re so close, now. Eighteen days is all they have left, and Justin is determined to make the most of that time. 

And make the most of that time he does. Apart from their illicit little excursion off of campus to get Zhengting’s birthday presents, Justin trains his ass off, trains until he thinks that not even Cai Xukun’s intensity can stop him, at this point.

He has never been happier. 

He has never been happier than now, as sweat drips down his face in the training rooms and he stretches out on his bunk, across from his best friends, sore and drained but so satisfied with himself that the scrapes and bruises are nothing. 

For as long as he can remember, the Frontier has been his dream. It’s everything he’s ever wished for, and now he’s so close he feels as if he can grasp it in his hands and hold it to his chest, where it powers his heartbeat. He _knows_ this is what he is meant for, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer. 

A few days before the evaluation, they are visited by Jolin Tsai, one of the foremost researchers and _the_ first Chinese females to set foot on the Frontier, nineteen years ago. Despite being a small woman, she commands as much, if not _more_ , presence as Zhang Yixing when she strides into their room confidently and sits among them.

She answers their questions and tells them about her own experiences. It is heartfelt and encouraging, and while Justin is grateful for the opportunity, he _can’t_ stop thinking about just how close he is to being like her. So close that he’s talking to her. 

That night, he lies awake in the dark, too consumed by anticipation to sleep. He can tell that no one else is sleeping, either. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. 

Zhengting does it for him. “We should get some rest.” 

Justin laughs. “The evaluation is in three days, ge.” 

“Which is precisely why,” their leader retorts. 

“Zhengting’s right.” Wenjun’s voice comes from diagonally across from him, where he’s occupied Xinchun’s spot now that the latter is gone. Wenjun’s old dorm is empty, now—Quanzhe, Zeren, and the Thai boy, Huang Shuhao, have all departed Dachang. “If we don’t rest well now, we won’t do well on the day of the evaluation.” 

“I don’t see you sleeping,” Chengcheng says with a snort. “Maybe tell us that once you’re asleep.” 

“How can I tell you when-?” 

The room explodes into laughter that they quickly try to muffle by doing it into their pillows. The walls are thin and the last thing Justin needs is for Lin Yanjun to come from next door and glare at them until they quiet down. It doesn’t usually take long, because when Yanjun wants to he can be _intimidating_. 

“If you guys can’t fall asleep, it’s because you aren’t training enough,” Zhengting grumbles, but there’s mirth in his voice. “Remember when you could sleep anywhere? Even on the floor in the training rooms?” 

“That’s different, Zhengting,” says Justin. “That was a month ago. We’re so close now.” 

Zhengting doesn’t say anything immediately, so Chengcheng fills in the silence. “Let’s play a game.” 

“We’re trying to sleep, Fan Chengcheng,” Wenjun admonishes. “No games.” 

“Just one,” Chengcheng insists. “Like Justin said, there’s only three more days. This is the last chance we’ll get and then, well, it’s off to Team Nine or back to Yuehua.” 

“We’re all making it,” Justin adds, feeling giddier by the second at the proposal, “but I don’t think it hurts to live a little.” 

“We _lived_ plenty when it was Zhengting’s birthday,” Wenjun says pointedly.

Justin hears Zhengting’s laugh from the opposite side of the room. “I still can’t believe you guys did that. You guys and all the others.” 

“It’s ‘cause we all love you, Zhengting,” Chengcheng says from the bunk above Justin’s. 

It’s been a while since Justin last teased Zhengting about it, so he decides to take the chance, snickering: “Fan Chengcheng, you know It’s not our love he’s looking for.” 

Chengcheng catches on quickly. “Oh, right. You’ll have to ask him yourself if you want to know, Zhengting.” 

Their antics get a rise out of Zhengting, as Justin expected. “I didn’t even bring that up!” he protests immediately. “Gods, Justin, why are you so annoying?” 

“Wait, what’s going on?” Wenjun’s voice is puzzled at first. “ _Oh_. Is it what I think it is?” 

“Yes,” Justin says gleefully. “Our beloved leader is-”

“Stop it!” Zhengting wails, as if cutting him off as if it makes it any less apparent. In fact, Justin thinks, it aggravates things. “This is none of your business, Huang Minghao!” 

“I didn’t even say anything about you yet.”

“It wouldn’t be our business if you didn’t make it so damn obvious,” Chengcheng cuts in. “That said, what happened to the guy you met in Korea? What was his name?” 

“Hong Eunki,” Justin supplies. He still remembers; a year ago, him and Zhengting had gone to Korea to train and Zhengting had fallen head over heels for a cute Korean boy they trained with. He doesn’t know what exactly happened between the two of them, only that Zhengting regularly snuck out of their dorms at night thinking no one noticed. “Do you guys still talk?” 

“Sometimes,” Zhengting says glumly. “Like I said, it’s _none_ of your business.” 

Wenjun sighs loudly before either Justin or Chengcheng can say anything that would further aggravate Zhengting. “What was the game you wanted to play, Chengcheng?” 

“Truth or Dare,” he answers. “But it seems like we were on track already.” 


	22. the time we're alive (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the time we're alive—zhu zhengting  
> where can i find a future with you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which yanjun rides an emotional rollercoaster and xukun doesn't feel like he's won anything in winning. 
> 
> this chapter... wasn't exactly easy to write and i'm not sure how happy i am with it yet? i'm pretty sure i like xukun's part but i have my doubts about yanjun's. 
> 
> in any case, i haven't done any shameless self-promotion for a while but if you don't know already my good friend (uwu) ramenree and i have been working a (long-ass) fic together called [epoch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281600/chapters/63982318) and it's kind of my baby but also part of the reason i haven't been updating this fic more frequently. you can check it out if you're interested in a vaguely _wuxia_ and historical inspired au with a shit-ton of angst. oh, i've also been stuck in the snzm pit for a while (have a few fics for that, too, but somehow they feel unspeakable). one last note, i have an entry for cloud9 fic fest as well so if you have time you can check it out :] and all the other amazing people who wrote for the fest and are keeping the ipd tag alive <3
> 
> (also, i definitely was not reluctant in updating this chapter because my word count was at 69k words)

Lin Yanjun knocks on the door three times and takes a step back, waiting. He hears a shuffling sound inside that must indicate that Jeffrey is on his way. 

“Hey, what’s up?” The door swings open to the witch in gym shorts and a black t-shirt. “Oh, you’re here to return the bracelet?” 

“Yeah.” He holds up the jade bangle, glad to finally be rid of it. It didn’t do anything to keep the premonitions, as they’ve discovered, at bay, nor is it anything close to fashionable. “Thanks for helping me out.” 

Jeffrey takes the bracelet from him, smiling. He has dimples, too, Yanjun notices, and they stand out very well against his pale skin. “No worries. That’s what friends are for.” 

_Friends._ Yanjun smiles back despite the anxiousness that grips his inside like a cold hand. Yes, no matter what happens tomorrow evening when they complete their Simulacrum, and in the days to come, at the very least he has friends. 

He’ll also have a spot on Team 9, if his dreams are to be believed. But Jeffrey saw it, too, so there really isn’t much doubt. The idea is thrilling and terrifying at the same time. More thrilling, somehow. Maybe it’s because he’s waited forever. 

That night, he doesn’t dream—a welcome surprise. Maybe he’s too tired, after staying up and talking to Linong until three in the morning. Whatever the case may be, he wakes up refreshed and optimistic, for once. 

The final evaluation is to start at noon and run until nine in the evening, at which point the votes and evaluator decisions will be aggregated into nine people who make the final line-up. 

Lin Yanjun adjusts his collar in the mirror, scrutinizing his reflection. The latest evolution of his uniform is fashioned from a pitch-black material made from a bunch of Frontier-harvested things he can't remember for the life of him, and his new shock of silver hair stands out starkly against it. The others questioned his decision to dye it, but he was eager for the symbolism then and pleased with the contrast now. He will stand out. He will make Team 9. And it is not because he saw it in his dreams. 

_Be confident, Lin Yanjun,_ he tells himself, and leaves the room. 

In practice, confidence is a lot harder, especially when he takes a look at those he calls his friends and his competition. Lin Chaoze looks deadly with all the weapons he's carrying on his person, a long knife strapped to his forearm and pistols on his thighs. You Zhangjing, who always looks deceptively harmless, is clad from head to toe tonight in a jet-black suit like his, with silvery accents here and there. Upon closer inspection, they are none other than his specialty—a siren's augmentation runes. 

"You're looking good," Zhangjing says, as Yanjun approaches them. He hears that often enough from Zhangjing that it shouldn't be sending his nerves into a frenzy, but it does. "What, am I wrong?" 

"No, it just doesn't need to be said," Yanjun responds as smoothly as he can. "I know that already." 

Zhangjing laughs melodically. "Alright, Mr. Narcissist. Ready?" 

"I sure hope to the gods you are," Chaoze cuts in before he can respond. "You're our point. You better not disappoint." 

Yanjun quirks an eyebrow. "Was that a pun I heard from you?"

Chaoze looks at him blankly for a moment, before his eyes go wide in horror. "Fuck, no." 

Yanjun and Zhangjing both burst into laughter. Chaoze joins in once he's finished wailing about the embarrassment. 

"Nice gear." Xiao Gui from Gramarie sidles up to them. If looking intimidating is his intention, it's working; Zhangjing, who has always been a bit afraid of the imp, is already moving to position himself behind Yanjun. 

"Thanks," says Chaoze. "You don't look half-bad yourself." 

Xiao Gui grins sharply. "That's a given. I'm not playing around tonight." 

"Neither are we," Yanjun promises. "We're going to blow this Sim sky-high." 

"That's the spirit," the imp agrees. "The other team won’t stand a chance." 

"What was that?" A new voice joins in the fray. Heads turn to see Zhu Xingjie from Gramarie sauntering towards them, hands in his pockets like he's out for a casual stroll instead of ready for the simulation that will determine the courses of their careers. "What did you say, Xiao Gui?" 

"Nothing." Xiao Gui sticks out his tongue. Xingjie slings an arm over his shoulder and drags him away, their laughs trailing off with them. 

Zhangjing sighs. "Imagine being as relaxed as they are." 

"You know, we're almost that relaxed," Chaoze quips, "if not for Lin Yanjun." 

"What am I doing?" Yanjun protests, but he knows. His ramrod-straight posture, his hands that will not stay still, the crease between his brows—these are all tell-tale signs of his nervousness, and his teammates are better than anyone at reading them. "I'm relaxed." 

"Relaxed, my ass," says Chaoze. 

"Give him a break," Zhangjing chides gently. "It's okay, Lin Yanjun. Breathe." 

"I'm breathing." Zhangjing's voice is as compelling as ever. Yanjun can feel his heartbeat slow itself, without any effort on his part. "I'm breathing," he repeats. 

Zhangjing smiles at him, bright and warm. "Good. You'll do great. We'll all do great. You know what they say." 

Chaoze groans before Yanjun can respond. "You mean that ridiculous saying our company has been releasing? 'The Banana splits, but we'll see each other at the top?'"

"That's the one," Zhangjing says, laughing. The sound pulls a laugh out of Yanjun, too. "It's stupid, but hey, it's true. We'll see each other at the Frontier even if we don't all make it into Team Nine." 

"You're right," Yanjun says. He extends a hand into the space between the three of them. After a moment, his teammates grasp his meaning and do the same. "We'll see each other there." 

They all raise their hands in a cheer. 

It seems like both an eternity and a heartbeat when Commander Zhang is among them, offering up his well-wishes to both teams as they stand by, waiting to load in. Yanjun feels the nerves kick in, his heart picking up pace in his chest against his will. He tries to keep the thoughts at bay, to no avail—his mind insists on asking just _how_ he became the point of his team when he was up against people like Zhangjing and Chaoze, or Zheng Ruibin the siren or Justin from Yuehua.

“The simulation begins _now_.” All of a sudden, people are moving. Yanjun doesn’t stall, either, but everything feels as if he is seeing himself in third person, as if he is watching his body move of its own accord from a mind barely tethered to it. He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not. 

Dark waves crash onto a dark beach. The roar of the water is like their instrumental backing, Yanjun thinks, as they set out across the Shore and towards the looming Shroud. This scene is so familiar to him by now, yet so foreign at the same time; it’s like being transported into a movie he’s watched a dozen times. He’s seen it, yes, but lived it? Not until now. 

He is at the very front of his team’s formation, which is roughly a V-shape. Zhanging is directly behind him, covered in all directions by himself, Chaoze, Justin, and Zheng Ruibin because he’s their team’s most valuable asset—the most powerful navigator and support in Dachang. At this point, even powerhouses in this regard like the bard Bi Wenjun and naiad Ling Chao, also on their team, have admitted defeat.

Yanjun knows better than anyone just how powerful Zhangjing is. Beneath the unassuming smiles and playful demeanor is the strongest siren he’s ever met, powers augmented by tragedy and stigma. Nothing gets past You Zhangjing’s keen senses, and no one escapes his influence. Any team lucky enough to have him will perform at twice their normal skill level.

Yanjun still remembers clearly the day he met Zhangjing. At the time, he had still been Trainee18’s leader, and Zhangjing a new trainee fresh from Malaysia with a cute accent and rabbit teeth. He looked utterly harmless. Today, the accent and bunny teeth are still there, but Yanjun learned the hard way that a word from Zhangjing could kill.

He had only seen Zhangjing angry once, and it was a spectacle that he would rather never witness again. 

“So, our goal is to get to a safe point set up just on the edge of the First Ring,” Yanjun recaps for his team. “We have nine hours, so we don’t have to move too fast—just carefully.”

He surveys their surroundings. “Let’s split up into two groups of three and another of four. We’ll stay within shouting distance of each other, but the small groups make it easier to fight any serpents if we need to.” 

The group echoes agreement; they’ve practiced for this particular scenario before. Zhangjing goes with Justin and Chaoze, the best combatants on their team, forming a blitz party that will carve a path through any obstacles ahead of them. Li Xikan, Bi Wenjun, Ling Chao, and Xiao Gui make up their most vulnerable central party, with mostly navigators and supports. Their position allows the other two groups to help them easily should they need help. Yanjun, Ruibin, and Jeffrey bring up the rear with the excellent senses of a clairvoyant and siren and the melee prowess of a shapeshifter. 

The Shore doesn’t take long at all to conquer, and not even their central team struggles with any serpents they encounter after the area has been swept by the blitz team. The rear just makes sure their adversaries are definitely eliminated as threats before moving on. 

Prior to coming to Dachang, Yanjun had some experience with Trainee18 running long Sims, and despite this one being the lengthiest one yet, he finds that it passes by in a blur. Maybe it’s because of what awaits them when it finishes, but Yanjun is almost distraught to find that the nine hours the Sim is supposed to last has come to an end as they’re navigating the First Ring.

Their virtual settings fade away to reveal that, somehow, they are now in the same room as the other ten trainees, and the empty spaces in the Studio have been converted to an area where spectators can stand. The trainees themselves are on an elevated platform, blinding drop lights overhead. 

There is a wave of cheering that adds to Yanjun’s disorientation. He blinks and raises a hand to cover his eyes, unsure of what to do, think, feel. 

Has his time on _NINE_ come to an end? Just like that? 

“Trainees, please take your places in the stands.” He hears Zhang Yixing’s voice ring out over the din, loud and clear. Mechanically, his head follows the others and turns, seeing a set of two-levelled metal bleachers set up on their makeshift stage. They are reminiscent of the ranks they were made to sit in during eliminations and, sure enough, upon closer inspection there are markers with all their names. 

Yanjun finds himself next to Zhangjing and Wenjun. The latter seems just as confused as he is. They’re confused because nothing seems real. Zhang Yixing is up at a podium, talking. The podium is at the other end of a long pathway—where did that come from?—that leads to the pyramid of ranked seats that he’s come to dread falling short of. Yanjun tries to listen to the commander’s words but retains absolutely nothing. 

Behind them, on an enormous screen, a video begins to play. Yanjun cranes his neck and sees them. The trainees, one hundred strong at first, then diminishing to sixty, thirty-five, and finally the twenty they are now. He sees them training, fighting, talking, laughing, and even eating in the cafeteria—all caught on camera. Ordinarily, he might have found that invasive, even though he knows he signed a contract, but today he only watches, unable to recognize himself. 

“Hey, Lin Yanjun,” Zhangjing’s voice comes from beside him. For once, it is quavering. “Relax.” 

“As if you’re one to talk,” he responds, more naturally than he thought himself capable of. He adds, admitting, “None of this feels real.”

Discreetly, Zhangjing inches closer to him until their elbows touch. “I know.”

Yanjun brushes the backs of their hands against each other. “I don’t know what I want.” 

Zhangjing doesn’t move his hand away. “Well, it’s too late to decide.” 

They don’t say anything again until the video finishes and the crowd erupts in cheers. Zhangjing leans over and says, quietly, “This is new.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Yanjun promises him. He wants to add something else, but he isn’t sure what, so Zhangjing straightens again and Yanjun edges away, just a little bit.

Something else seems to happen around him that he doesn’t quite catch and then Zhang Yixing is back with a microphone and all Yanjun hears are the words _trainees_ and _Team 9._ It takes him a moment to comprehend that Yixing said, “We will now be announcing the trainees who have successfully, after rounds of popular support and deliberation from us, the evaluators, made the cut for Team Nine.” 

The audience roars its approval. The commander continues, “We will begin with the eighth rank and continue until the first. The ninth rank will be announced last. Now…” The entire Studio holds its breath, Yanjun included. Maybe it’s him… 

“... eighth is Xiao Gui, Wang Linkai.” 

Yanjun sees the imp in question a few trainees down. When he steps out of their ranks to cheers, he is not smiling.

Seventh is Wang Ziyi. Not surprising. He has always been well-liked by the audience and had the confidence of the mentors, but not enough that he would secure one of the highest ranks.

Then in sixth place comes Zhu Zhengting.This is more unexpected—Yanjun thought that Zhengting would rank higher. If he is in sixth, who would be in fifth? 

Yanjun casts a glance at Zhangjing. It wouldn’t be unrealistic for him to suddenly rise in rank, would it? Yanjun himself is fairly confident that he would be eventually occupying the ninth space, if his dreams are to be believed. 

But then his confidence is shattered yet again when there’s a _name_ ringing in his ears and it’s not You Zhangjing’s or any of the others he’d expected for fifth place. It’s _his._ Lin Yanjun. Zhang Yixing is calling _Lin Yanjun_ up to the podium, and all he can think is _this isn’t planned._

It isn’t supposed to be this way, he thinks, but he moves mechanically anyway, across the pathway and to the podium where Zhang Yixing waits with a microphone. He supposes that he says something to the audience, but he is definitely crying because the world is blurry. It seems right to bow, so he gets on his knees and presses his forehead to the floor, and that is finally enough to help him regain his composure. Even so, he doesn’t think until he reaches the fifth place spot, and sits.

From this height, the Studio seems to sharpen into a strange, dizzying clarity. By now, the fourth-ranked trainee, Justin, has been announced and the boy in question is trotting across the stage under a shower of sparks and confetti. It’s real, he thinks, and _oh gods, it’s real_. 

The next three spots are occupied by Fan Chengcheng, Chen Linong, and, utterly unsurprisingly, Cai Xukun. The only position left is ninth and You Zhangjing isn’t up here with him yet. Yanjun leans forward in his seat anxiously, his hands clenched tightly in his lap and sweat beading on his forehead more profusely than it did while he was waiting for his own name. 

The relief that floods through him when it _is_ in fact You Zhangjing’s name called up for ninth place snaps through him like he’s a rubber band stretched too taut for too long. When Zhangjing finally makes his way up onto the Pyramid and Yanjun is able to embrace him, he does so tightly that he thinks they might just both shatter then and there. 

“We made it,” Zhangjing whispers, under the roaring approval of the audience and the ecstatic cheers of the other trainees around them. Lin Yanjun hears him so clearly he may as well have shouted those words at the top of his lungs. “We made it, Lin Yanjun.” 

He pulls back from their hug and looks up at Yanjun and smiles. 

“Yeah,” says Yanjun, feeling his own lips lift, trembling. 

There is no way to describe how he feels now, only that in the moment, he’s feeling okay. 

* * *

Cai Xukun is so tired he can feel the flames weave through his fingers every time his focus slips, but the party isn’t over yet and he doesn’t know any ways to properly excuse himself that don’t include just leaving.

How can people have so much energy? Justin is still giddy, despite it being near three in the morning on top of the fact that they had run a nine-hour Simulacrum earlier in the day. The eliminated trainees have also returned to Dachang to celebrate on Team 9’s behalf, and one hundred high-spirited youths has become too much for Xukun’s frayed nerves to handle. 

He is not engaged in a conversation right now. It is perfectly fine for him to leave. 

He slips through the dark, crowded room, away from the pulsing lights and the many scenarios playing out around him—Zhu Zhengting wresting some alcoholic beverage away from a complaining Justin, a drunk Ding Zeren and Zhou Yanchen cuddled up against each other in a corner, and a flamboyant as ever Xu Kaihao entertaining other trainees with his antics. 

In the hall, the air is a lot easier to breathe. Xukun hadn’t even noticed how stuffy it was inside the room until now.

He heads in the direction of the unused training room. The party is being held in the two largest training rooms that have a foldable wall between them, but even twice the normal size it’s a bit of a fit for a hundred people.

He finds himself in front of Room Two. It’s still off-limits to trainees, denoted by a strip of orange flagging tape across the door frame and a piece of paper with bolded words. Xukun ducks under the tape and pushes the door open—he could care less, at this point. After all, _he’s_ the reason the room is off-limits, anyway. 

The door shuts behind him and he’s standing in pitch blackness, but he doesn’t want to turn on the light. He feels through the darkness with nothing but his senses, but it isn’t very difficult; the simulator has been removed and all that’s really left of this room are the charred walls and floorboards they have yet to repair, and him. 

Xukun scopes out the wall with his left hand and walks along it, before sitting down with his back to it. The floor is ashy and he runs his fingers through the fine dust, fascinated in the way people are with the aftermath of their actions.

In a few months time, he will be going to the Frontier, yet the reality of it still seems far out of his grasp. 

He stopped doubting that he will make Team 9, at some point, but that doubt has been replaced by another—that he won’t last long enough to live. 

As a rookie team, they will not be given an overly reaching assignment, he knows—that means it might be a year, two years, or even longer before they’re given the command to head for the Heart. Until then, they’d be occupied with the First Ring and whatever comes after, making progress little by little. 

_Gods_. He is so afraid of dying. 

He is so fucking afraid of dying that it takes sitting alone in the dark and in a pile of ashes for him to realize just _how_ afraid and just _how real_ the possibility is.

He draws his knees in close to his chest and buries his face in the space between, feeling his breath begin to arrive in shallow, rapid gasps. There is something warm rising up inside him, breaking through the delicate barrier created by Cheng Xiao’s potions and Xukun almost panics—almost—before he forces it back down into submission. 

Cai Xukun stands up and dusts himself off. 


	23. the time we're alive (iii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the time we're alive—zhu zhengting  
> i cannot push aside the world.

Four months ago, Chen Linong would have pinched himself on the arm hard if someone told him that he would become a member of Team 9 and that Commander Zhang Yixing himself was going to give him a house tour. Today, the temptation is still there as he and his new teammates walk through the house given over to their use for the next six months as they prepare for their departure to the Frontier, Zhang Yixing in the lead. 

“This is where you guys will live for the six months before your first expedition,” Yixing is explaining, as they take off their shoes at the front door like children in a stranger’s house. Linong’s jaw drops at the sheer size of the place—after everything he’s seen at Dachang, from dragonlings who put legends to shame to lion variety gatekeepers, he thought that nothing could surprise him anymore, but apparently large houses still do. “There are four bedrooms to share between the nine of you. It’s up to you how you want to split those up.” 

Beside him, Linong sees a grinning You Zhangjing grab Lin Yanjun’s attention by tapping his arm. “It’ll be like our dorm again,” he says softly. 

Yanjun smiles back with a row of perfect white teeth. “Well, our dorm minus Gao Maotong.” He looks over at Linong and brings him into the conversation easily. “We can replace him with Linong. There’ll have to be a room of three anyway.” 

Linong shakes his head quickly, as much he would like nothing more than the familiarity of sharing a room with Yanjun, as they had for the past four months. “It’s alright,” he says. “I’d imagine the Yuehua three would want to share.” 

They move into the rest of the house, walking through a spacious living room and a modern kitchen. Yixing stops them at a door that appears to lead to the basement of the house and tells them, “There’s a training room down there for use after your daily sessions, complete with a simulator and programmer. So, anytime you want to practice on your own you can use it. Otherwise, all your training will be at the Simulacrum studio.” 

Yixing claps his hands together. “That’s all I have to say. Your training schedules are in the folder on the kitchen table. I’m sure you guys can figure out how to live together.” 

They all laugh, but privately Linong knows they have their doubts. Xiao Gui and Zhu Zhengting haven’t exactly gotten along since Zhou Yanchen’s incident two months ago, and some of them are still practically strangers to one another.  _ We have six months _ , Linong thinks. They’ll learn.

Zhang Yixing departs shortly thereafter, leaving this first day out of Dachang for them to unpack their belongings and get accustomed to new surroundings. As he correctly predicted, Zhu Zhengting, Justin Huang, and Fan Chengcheng want to share, so they’re given the largest bedroom out of the four. Cai Xukun and Wang Ziyi room, unsurprisingly, as do Zhangjing and Yanjun, leaving Linong to share a bedroom with Xiao Gui. 

He had never really spoken much with the imp during  _ NINE _ , and there’s a certain intimidating air about him that sets Linong a little on edge when they both walk into their new room.

“I guess we’re both the odd ones out,” Linong tries, as casually as possible. 

He glances at Xiao Gui to gauge his reaction and, to his surprise, the imp’s face breaks into a smile that softens his sharp features considerably. “Well, I’m looking forward to getting to know you better,” he says, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed on the left, claiming it. He also sets a small portable speaker onto the dresser. “I hope you don’t mind some music.” 

“Not at all,” Linong replies, reassured. He’d take a loud roommate over an intimidating one any day. As he moves to set his sunflower down by the window between the two beds, some hip-hop song begins blaring out of the speakers and immediately someone in the room over groans. Xiao Gui just grins and turns up the volume. 

“What’s up with the sunflower?” Xiao Gui asks over the rap. “Thought nymphs’ Hearts were usually trees.” 

“Well, most are. I’m lucky to have a sunflower,” Linong replies, practically shouting over the music. “It’s more portable.” 

Nymphs like himself—dryads if they were to use the most technically correct term—are bound to various flora, and their lives and abilities depend upon the livelihood of the plant. Xiao Gui is right in his assumption that most nymphs do indeed have Heart trees, but those nymphs can never leave home for long lest they be away from their Heart and their powers weaken too drastically. It’s why there weren’t very many of them on the exploration scene, either. 

“What about when we go to the Frontier?” 

Linong points to the face of the sunflower. “There’ll be more seeds by then. I can carry seeds with me as an extension of its power.” 

Xiao Gui nods and goes back to unpacking, tossing items into his dresser haphazardly. Linong unloads his own belongings into the dresser more or less neatly and slips his suitcases underneath the bed after he’s done. It took surprisingly little time, but he supposes he shouldn’t find it shocking—he has few belongings, after all. 

The rest of the day the nine of them spend exploring their new surroundings and getting used to one another. At dinner, which they somehow manage to make as a group without burning the kitchen down, Linong notices the tension between Zhengting and Xiao Gui is as apparent as ever, and there is a different kind of strain between Zhengting and Xukun. Yanjun and Zhangjing are very comfortable with one another, and so are Justin and Chengcheng, and for the first time, now that they’re away from Dachang, their closeness feels isolating. 

After supper, they remain together at the long table to examine the folder left behind for them—the folder containing their schedules for the coming months, and the standard they are expected to achieve so that they could leave for the Frontier on time. 

There’s a brief, awkward moment when both Xukun and Zhengting reach for the folder resting at the centre of the table. Zhengting catches himself and retracts his hand with an apologetic grin. 

“Sorry. Old habits die hard.” 

The other two from Yuehua snicker a little, but Xukun doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes the now uncontested folder and opens it to a stack of papers. 

“From Monday to Thursday we train from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon. We have weekly evaluations on Fridays, and every second Saturday from now until October we’re expected to do press. Sundays are free, and Fridays too, once we get the evaluations out of the way.” 

Linong nods along with everyone else. It’s not much different from their Dachang days, he thinks. Perhaps even a little less vigorous. 

“How are we being assessed for evaluations?” Zhangjing asks, always to the point. “And what happens if we’re not meeting the bar?” 

Xukun scans the page. “I’d imagine we just train more.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t exactly say, but I’m sure we’ll know by next Friday.” 

There is a round of accepting murmurs from around the table. Then, Zhengting speaks up: “Why don’t we just take the rest of tonight and relax? This is our first day out of Dachang—I think we deserve a break.” 

Everyone agrees with it. Zhengting, with the other two from Yuehua in tow, sets about exploring the house in more depth. Xukun says something about keeping up the habit of training and heads to the basement, Ziyi following him after a bit. Yanjun and Zhangjing disappear into their shared room, presumably to catch up after months of living apart. Once again, only Linong and Xiao Gui remain, and in accordance with some unspoken agreement they head to the bonus room together. Linong settles on the couch while Xiao Gui fiddles with a gaming console. 

“Wanna play?” He offers a controller to Linong. He takes it, despite knowing that he’s terrible at games. “Shit, it’s been a long time since I’ve played a game.” 

“It’s hard to remember what exactly I was doing before  _ NINE _ happened,” Linong echoes the sentiment. “How long had you trained before then?” 

“Couple years,” Xiao Gui answers. “You?” 

“Only eight months,” Linong replies, a little bit embarrassed. “I don’t know how I made it.” 

Xiao Gui’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. The game’s start screen flashes on the TV, and Xiao Gui presses play. There’s something distinctly cold in the air between them now, and Linong is desperate to have it gone. 

“Did you always want to go into this field?” Linong tries nervously. 

“No.” There’s an edge in his voice. 

“I didn’t either.” Linong hesitates for a moment before adding, “I used to think I’d just go to school and figure things out then. But then they said I could make some money quick by training with them. I was kind of strapped for cash at the time, so I took the offer, but now that I’m here I can’t back out.” He laughs shortly. “Hopefully they’ll whip me into shape by the time we leave.” 

The silence between them is awkward and suffocating and exacerbated by the upbeat music of the game, now booming through the television speakers.  _ Fuck _ , Linong thinks.  _ Why did I say _ any  _ of that? _ Had he really been so desperate to clear the air that he  _ needed _ to overshare? 

Xiao Gui mutes the TV. His expression is unreadable. “Well,” he finally says, “if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t exactly ask to be roped into this, either.” 

Linong lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “What were you doing before?” 

“Murder and arson.” 

Linong almost jumps. At his shock, Xiao Gui barks a laugh that instantly takes the edge off his features. 

“Sorry. That’s half a lie. Swap murder for blackmail.” 

Linong laughs nervously. “Are you sure we aren’t being recorded here?” 

Xiao Gui shrugs and unmutes the TV. “So what? My background might not be  _ common _ knowledge but it’s out there. And if you’re uncomfortable with it,” he flashes a sharp grin, “that’s for you to deal with.” 

“No, I’m not uncomfortable,” he protests quickly, even though he can hear the doubt in his words. “Things are different now.” 

Xiao Gui regards him out of the corner of his eye. For the first time since their meeting, Linong sees something in Xiao Gui’s eyes that he has seen in his own.

“Are they?” the imp asks. “Are they really?” 

* * *

Zhu Zhengting should be satisfied. He’s done everything he’d said he would—make Team 9 on his merit and his merit alone, and prove to his parents and the world that no, he did not need their bigoted approval to make a name for himself. Yes, Zhu Zhengting is the only  _ truly _ human one on a team full of rare supernatural talents, and he is proud. 

This is everything he’s ever wanted, yet the perfect picture is already cracking. For one, his new teammate Xiao Gui seems to loathe him over his defense of Ding Zeren two months ago when Zhou Yanchen had his incident. Zhengting will maintain that he has done nothing wrong—it wasn’t Zeren’s fault and Xiao Gui can hate him all he likes. But things aren’t all that simple as much as he wishes they were. Xiao Gui has the same chilly attitude towards Justin and Chengcheng, too, and it isn’t the first time someone’s accused their team of gravitating towards one another “in spite of right and wrong,” or so they say. 

Zhengting wants to ignore the judgement and forge ahead, as is customary of his personality, but it’s a bit difficult when they’re part of the same team and their teamwork is of utmost importance. One way or another, he’ll need to make amends with the imp. 

For another, when he steps out of the washroom after the best shower he’s taken in months, Chengcheng and Justin are waiting for him in their shared room with uneasy expressions on their faces. 

“What's wrong?” he asks them. “Did you guys do something wrong that I can’t know?” 

“No,” Justin answers for both of them. He doesn’t deign to elaborate but something about his tone still suggests that he is about to deliver unpleasant news, and he is trying his best to soften the blow.

Zhengting crosses his arms. “You sure?” 

“Yes,” he says. “You got a call.” 

A chill rushes down his spine, all thoughts of Justin and Chengcheng’s potential shenanigans forgotten. “On my cell phone?” 

“Yeah. They called a couple times,” Justin responds slowly. “Left some voicemails, too.” 

Zhengting just nods and walks over to his nightstand, where his phone rests. He scoops it up and tells his two younger teammates that he’ll be right back and leaves the room, seeking out the only place in the house where he thinks could guarantee him privacy at this time—the training room in the basement. 

The basement is a wide, unfinished concrete room with a bulky simulator in one corner and empty space comprising the rest. The grey floor is cold against his bare feet and the grey wall is just as chilling behind his back when he takes a seat against it. Tucking his knees up to his chest, Zhengting scrolls through his voicemail, the unopened messages bright red against a white screen. The number isn’t saved, but he knows with a sickening certainty who it is.

With some apprehension, he opens the more recent message of the two and listens. 

_ “Son, please call back. Your mother wants to talk to you.” _

It’s like a stone has dropped in his stomach. Zhengting resists the urge to crush his cell phone with his bare hands; given his training and his rage, he’s pretty sure he can do it. It’s  _ so _ fucking like his father to leverage his mother against him. Of fucking course. 

His hatred for his father is vehement. His mother, well… he would forgive his mother for just about anything, right down to the time she gave away the stray puppy he’d picked up off the street and cried and begged to keep. Even so, he’d forgive her no matter what she does, how many times she sides with his father, or how many times she tells his father what Zhengting is up to despite his desperate entreaties against it; he would forgive her if only because she never said that one word he hates so, so much. 

_ “Worthless.” _

She never called him worthless, not even when she found out that she’d given birth to a son with none of his father’s prodigious talent or even his mother’s more diluted bloodline. She never called  _ him _ worthless, regardless of how many innocent passers-by she’s deemed as such. She loved Zhengting in her own, reserved ways, never raising a hand against him and never,  _ ever _ calling him worthless, not even when Zhengting began to believe such of himself. 

So, with an odd sense of finality and knowing full well his father’s ploy, he touches the phone number on the screen. The dial tone begins and he puts the device close to his ear, waiting with bated breath.

The dialing sound is suddenly cut short. A man’s voice says,  _ “Son?” _

“Don’t call me that,” Zhengting responds immediately, through gritted teeth. “You said it yourself. I’m no son of yours.” 

The line is silent for a moment, before his father replies,  _ so _ nonchalantly,  _ “Have I really?” _

_ Fucker. But of course you don’t remember _ . Zhengting wants to tell him as much, but he doesn’t. He shouldn’t. So, he waits for his father’s next words. 

_ “It is to my understanding that you have been selected for a team that will explore the Frontier this coming October.”  _ His father’s tone is unnaturally pleasant. Zhengting knows what that means.  _ “Your mother and I would like to see you at least once before you embark. We’re very proud of you.” _

“Cut the bullshit,” he spits. “You want something from me, don’t you? Elsewise why would you suddenly reclaim me as your son?” 

His father sighs from the other end of the line.  _ “You have always been my son, Zhengting. Am I really so heartless to you?” _

_ Yes, you are. Twenty-two years and you’ve never thought me anything but a failure _ . Zhengting bites the words back and they make his mouth taste like acid. Instead, he opts to say, “You didn’t deny my question, so answer it. What do you want from me?” 

_ “We only want to meet.” _

The miles between Zhengting and his father are elongated by his doubt. But even so he finds himself asking, “When and where?” 

_ “Your mother and I can come to Beijing,”  _ his father says, more agreeable than he’s ever been.  _ “If you’re not wrapped up in any obligations next weekend we would love to see you then.” _

_ Only her _ , Zhengting thinks bitterly.  _ I only want to see her. _

“Okay,” is what he says. “Let me know where you’re staying when you arrive, then.” 

_ “Of course.” _ He can hear his father smile, almost, but the smile is the one he gives to the strangers Zhengting often saw in his childhood, guests in their house to do business. The smile he gave them was a cold, empty one—a smile which meant nothing to neither the person receiving it or giving it.  _ “See you then.” _

Zhengting refuses to give him the satisfaction of a response. He hangs up quickly, his hand dropping from his ear down to the space between his knees. The phone call has left him drained, the reinvigorating shower he took only ten minutes ago a thing of the distant past. 

_ “Zhengting, how was school today?”  _

The conversations had always started out civil. 

_ “How did you do on the test?”  _

But they often turned probing, evaluating. In the earlier years of his memory Zhengting, somehow, mistook the questions for concern, and answered honestly. 

_ “Only sixth in the class? You need to do better, Zhengting.”  _

When he didn’t do any better, he heard the words. At first, his father took care not to say them in front of him, so the first time Zhengting was labelled  _ worthless _ was late at night. He hadn’t been able to sleep, but when he peeked into the still-lit kitchen, looking for his parents and hoping for comfort, what he got instead was an epiphany. No, not quite an epiphany—the realization had neither been pleasant nor great. It was merely a confirmation of what he was already beginning to understand, what his father had been reinforcing upon him from the moment his genetics test revealed that he had inherited none of the fairy blood from either of his parents. That he was a human, a  _ measly human _ born to the most powerful fairy of his clan. 

In the present, Zhengting feels cold. The cold of the concrete room is leaching into him until he’s frozen in place, unable to move and more unable to cast aside the poisonous longing he wishes he could forget. 

If only he no longer craves the sweet, toxic approval he had a taste of once in a while in his youth. If only he no longer dreams of his mother’s furtive, fleeting smiles. If only.

“Zhengting?” 

A voice cracks the ice. Zhengting looks towards the entrance to the basement and sees Cai Xukun standing in the doorway, a small, uneasy figure almost entirely swallowed by an oversized sweater.  _ He looks cold, too _ , Zhengting thinks. 

“Hi, Xukun,” he responds inadequately. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” 

Xukun takes a few tentative steps into the room. His footfalls seem to echo even though they don’t. 

“It’s fine,” he says. “I was just wondering what you were doing down here.” 

Zhengting finds the energy to stand. “I was just taking a call,” he says nonchalantly. “You know how loud Justin and Chengcheng can be.” 

“Oh.” Xukun looks him up and down, as if skeptical. “Are you okay?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Zhengting asks back, breezily. “What about you? What brings you down here so late?” A thought takes him, and a sharp pang of a kind of worry he hasn’t felt since Xukun’s incident back at Dachang. “If you’re here to train, I’m not letting you.” 

Xukun waves his hands quickly to deny it. “No, I’m just here to see how you’re doing.” 

The concern gives Zhengting pause. It makes him feel oddly warm and fuzzy inside and, dare he say it, a tiny thrill briefly breaks through the gloom of only seconds earlier. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“Okay, that’s good.” The air becomes awkward again. Xukun clears his throat. “Who did you get a call from?” 

This is the question Zhengting had been dreading, and he has never been good at lying. “My parents,” he says. “They’re coming to visit.” 

Xukun raises an eyebrow. “That must be nice,” he says, a little bit wistfully. “Next weekend?” 

“Yeah.” Zhengting swallows.  _ Nice _ . “What about yours?” 

“They’re busy with their own work.” Xukun doesn’t elaborate, but when he meets Zhengting’s eyes with his there’s an uncharacteristic warmth in them—understanding, almost, even though Xukun has no way of knowing his predicament. “If you don’t have anything else to do down here, wanna go back upstairs? It’s cold.” 

Zhengting finds it in him to smile. “Yeah. It is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... beginning of a new arc. this is kinda the interim between the dachang and frontier arcs and will be pretty short in comparison. thoughts?


End file.
